Classic Poem

This carefull head (with diuerse thoughtes distrest)
My fancies chronicleire, my sorrowes nurse:
These watchfull eyes (whose heedlesse ame I curse)
Loues centernelles, and fountaines of vnrest:
This tongue still-trembling, harrold fit adrest
To my loues greefe, then any torment worse:
This hart true fortresse, of my spottelesse loue,
And rageous furnace of my long desier:
Of these by nature am I not possest
(Though nature there first meanes in me did moue)
But thou (deare sweet) with thy loues holy fire
Mine head greefes anueyle made with cares opprest
Mine eyes a spring, my tongue a leafe-winde shaken,
Mine hart a wastfull wildernesse forsaken.