Classic Poem

Who cannot loue without to lust it runne
Or els to Passions that as wild appeare,
Are like ill Eyes, that cannot brooke the Sunne:
Or most weake Braines, that strong wine cannot beare
But, in high Loue (whose Base on vertue rests)
Ther's no distemprature of Flesh, or Sprite:
The Mouth of True Loue sucks true Pleasures Brests:
Which it augments with pure (not grosse) delight
Hence flow all Nectard Sweets into the Soule
That Heau'n, on Earth, (in highest height) can yeeld
As sweete and faire, as Lust is sowre, and fowle,
And doth (at pleasure) Pleasures Passions weld:
But, he that is impatient in desire,
(As Clogd with flesh) cannot this Heaun aspire.