Classic Poem

So looks an Angell on Heauns Christall Wall
As looks my saint, or Angell in her Glase:
Each see in each, they are Celestiall;
Hir flesh then, being Heaunly, is not Grasse:
Grasse! no! o no, though Grasse doth glad the Eie
With Ey-delighting Greennesse, its too darke
To be like her diuine Serenity
That of highest GLORY, is a flaming Spark!
Which sets the World on fire, and al therein,
Like Phaetons Pride (the Proude should know that Story)
No Eye sees it but would lose sight to win
That Light, by which Eies see, Sight dimd with glory!
O might mine Eies be dimd stil, with that Light,
I would be nought but Eies, yet blinded quite.