Classic Poem

The Sunn which glads, the earth att his bright sight
When in the morne hee showes his golden face,
And takes the place from taedious drowsy night
Making the world still happy in his grace;

Shewes hapines remaines nott in one place,
Nor may the heavens alone to us give light,
Butt hide that cheerfull face, though noe long space,
Yett long enough for triall of theyr might;

Butt never sunn-sett could bee soe obscure
No desart ever had a shade soe sadd,
Nor could black darknes ever prove soe badd
As paines which absence makes mee now indure;

The missing of the sunn awhile makes night
Butt absence of my joy sees never Light.