Classic Poem

Who sows the seas, or ploughs the easy shore?
Yet I, fond I, more fond and senseless more:
Who strives in nets to prison in the wind?
Yet I in love a woman thought to bind:
Fond, too fond thoughts, that thought in love to tie
One more inconstant than inconstancy.

Look, as it is with some true April day,
The sun his glorious beams doth fair display,
And straight a cloud breaks into fluent showers,
Then shines, and rains, and clears, and straight it lours,
And twenty changings in one hour do prove:
So, and more changing, is a woman's love.

Fond then my thoughts, that thought a thing so vain;
Fond love, to love what could not love again;
Fond hopes, that anchor on so false a ground;
Fond thoughts that fired with love, in hope thus drowned:
Fond thoughts, fond hope, fond heart, but fondest I
To grasp the wind and love inconstancy.