Classic Poem

Such was the sorrow Cloris felt
At her Amintors parting,
Her heart the pain abroad so deal't
(Perhaps to ease the smarting)

I saw what she essay'd to hide
(Rays'd by her griefs devouring)
Down from her eyes a silver tide,
Twixt Pinks and Lillies powring.

Whilst Love (at fall of ev'ry tear,
Weary perhaps with playing)
Sat to refresh, and bath him there,
His pointed wings displaying.

But soon the stream her fayre hand dries,
When straight you might espie him
Into the sun shine of her eyes,
Pearcht up to prune and dry him.