Classic Poem

This lady, ripe, and calm, and fresh,
As Eastern summers are,
Must now forsake both time and flesh,
T' add light to some small star.

Whilst yet alive, each star decayed
She may relieve with light;
But death leads beauty to a shade
More cold, more dark than night.

The saucy faith of man doth blind
His pride, 'till it conduce
To destine all his abject kind
For some eternal use.

But ask not bodies (doomed to die)
To what abode they go;
Since knowledge is but sorrow's spy,
It is not safe to know.