Classic Poem

I see the house; my heart thyself contain,
Beware full sails drown not thy tott'ring barge,
Lest joy, by nature apt sprites to enlarge,
Thee to ty wrack beyond thy limits strain.

Nor do like lords, whose weak confused brain
Not pointing to fit folks each undercharge,
While every office themselves will discharge,
With doing all, leave nothing done but pain.

But give apt servants their due place: let eyes
See beauty's total sum summ'd in her face;
Let ears hear speech, which wit to wonder ties;

Let breath suck up those sweets; let arms embrace
The globe of weal, lips Love's indentures make:
Thou but of all the kingly tribute take.