Classic Poem

I

P ITTIE mee, Chloris, and the flame
Disdaine, and distance, cannot tame;
And pittie my necessitie,
That makes my Court-shippe, wanting thee,
Nothing but fond Idolatrie.

II

In darke, and Melancholly Groves,
Where prettie birds discourse their Loves,
I dayly worshippe on my knee,
Thy shaddow, all I have of thee,
And sue to that to pittie me.

III

I vow to it the sacred vow,
To thee, and only thee, I owe
When (as it knew my true intent)
The silent Picture gives consent,
And seemes to Mourn my Banishment.

IV

Presageing thence my Love's successe,
I triumph in my happinesse,
And straight consider how each grace,
Adornes thy Body, or thy Face,
Surrender up to my embrace.

V

I think this little Tablett now
Because less cruell, fair as thou;
I do from it mercie implore,
'Tis the sole Saint I doe adore,
I doe not think I Love thee more.