Classic Poem

Sonnett

As I drawe neere with fearefull stepps to see
those heavenly eyes, the planetts of my fate
Such fervent fyre fourthwith doth seyse on me
as that throughe payne my life I have in hate
What shoulde I doo to ease my griefe withall
but shunne your sight, I take yt best advyse
Yett so into as greate extreames I fall
for then from heate I growe as colde as yse
I quake and quyver in each parte and vayne
and from my harte the lyvelye bloode doth runn
Such straunge effectes throughe yow I do retain
then blame me not to call your face the Sunne
Since from your syghte the winters colde I trye
and in your sighte like sommers heate I frye.