Classic Poem

Too long I follow'd haue my fond desire,
And too long painted on the ocean streames,
Too long refreshment sought amidst the fire,
And hunted ioyes, which to my soule were blames.
Ah! when I had what most I did admire,
And seene of life's delights the last extreames,
I found all but a rose hedg'd with a bryer,
A nought, a thought, a show of mocking dreames.
Hencefoorth on thee mine only good I'll thinke,
For only thou canst grant what I doe craue;
Thy naile my penne shall bee, thy blood mine inke,
Thy winding-sheet my paper, studie, graue.
And till that soule forth of this bodie flie,
No hope I'll haue but only onelie thee.