Classic Poem

WHEREIN HE WRITES A RECANTATION OF THE ANNIVERSARY SONNET

Always I hold that window in my hate
Whence Love discharged a thousand shafts at will,
Because not one of them sufficed to kill:
For death is good when life is rich and great
But this existence in a prison state
Feeds me the bitter bread of endless ill!
And more's the grief that stays immortal still,
Since soul from heart can never separate.
O miserable, who should be most aware
By long experience now that from his track
Time cannot be restrained or flattered back!
Again and again have I addressed it fair:
Griever, begone! ... Too early goes not he
Who leaves behind him his serenity.