Classic Poem

Happy in sleepe, waking content to languish,
Imbracing clowdes by night, in day time mourne,
My joyes but shadowes, touch of truth my anguish,
Griefes ever springing, comforts never borne:
And still expecting when she will relent,
Growne hoarce with crying " Mercy, mercy gyve";
So many vowes and prayers having spent,
That weary of myselfe, I loathe to lyve.
And yet the Hydra of my cares renewes
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 doe touch so neerely,
And thus I live because I love her deerely.