Classic Poem

Happy in sleepe, waking content to languish,
Imbracing clouds by night, in day time mourne,
My ioys but shadowes, touch of truth, my anguish,
Griefes euer springing, comforts neuer borne.
And still expecting when she will relent,
Growne hoarce with crying mercy, mercy giue,
So many vowes, and praiers hauing spent,
That weary of my life, I loath to liue.
And yet the Hydra of my cares renues
Still new borne sorrowes of her fresh disdaine:
And still my hope the Sommer windes pursues,
Finding no end nor period of my paine.
This is my state, my griefes do touch so neerly,
And thus I liue because I loue her deerly.