Classic Poem

Thou sleepest fast, and I with woeful heart
Stand here alone sighing and cannot fly:
Thou sleepest fast, when cruel Love his dart
On me doth cast, alas, so painfully!
Thou sleepest fast, and I, all full of smart,
To thee, my foe, in vain do call and cry:
And yet, methinkës, though thou sleepest fast
Thou dreamest still which way my life to wast.