Classic Poem

I Must not grieue my Loue, whose eies would reede
Lines of delight, whereon her youth might smile:
Flowers haue a time before they come to seede,
And she is yong, and now must sport the while.
Ah sport (sweet Maide) in season of these yeares,
And learne to gather flowers before they wither:
And where the sweetest blossomes first appeares,
Let loue and youth conduct thy pleasures thither.
Lighten foorth smiles to cleere the clouded aire,
And calme the tempest which my sighs doo raise:
Pitty and smiles doe best become the faire,
Pitty and smiles must onely yeeld thee praise.
Make me to say, when all my griefes are gone,
Happy the heart that sigh'd for such a one.