Classic Poem

If that a loyall hart and fayth unfained,
If a sweete languish with a chast desire,
If hunger-starven thoughts so long retained,
Fed but with smoake, and cherisht but with fire,
And if a brow with cares' characters painted,
Bewraies my love, with broken words halfe spoken,
To her that sits in my thought's Temple sainted,
And layes to view my Vultur-gnawne hart open:
If I have done due homage to her eyes,
And had my sighes styll tending on her name,
If on her love my life and honour lyes,
And shee (th'unkindest mayd) still scornes the same;
Let this suffice, that all the world may see
The fault is hers, though mine the hurt must bee.