Classic Poem

So shootes a Starre as doth my Mistries glide
At Midd night through my Chamber; which she makes
Bright as the Sky, when Moone, and Starres are spide
Wherewith my sleeping Eyes (amazed) wake
Which ope no sooner then hir selfe shee shutts
Out of my sight, awaie so fast shee flies;
Which me in mind of my slack seruice putts;
For which all night I wake, to plague mine Eyes;
Shoote Starre once more, and if I bee thy Marke
Thou shalt hic mee, for thee He meet withall:
Let myne Eyes once more see thee in the darke,
Els they, with ceasslesse waking, out will fall;
And if againe such time, and place I lose
(To close with thee) lett mine Eyes neuer close.