Classic Poem

The absent lover, in pawne of his constancie, sendeth his heart to his Ladie.

Receive, deare dame, as gage of worthy love,
This pyned hart, bepoudred all with teares,
Whose poesie is, No fate my faith can move:
A rare accorde, in prime of roving yeres.
When fancie sets a thousand thoughts on fire,
When faith is choakt with smoke of filthie change,
When folly fumes, when flameth fond desire,
When raging lust beyond his bounds doth range,
When every bayte beguileth brainsicke youth,
When newe found love the olde exileth still,
When sugred wordes are sauced with untruth,
What straunge consent subdude my wanton wil?
Forsooth (sweet wench) this stay thy vertue wrought,
Thy rare report this metamorphose made;
And lest my youth should wrong thee with som thought,
I use this helpe all vaine desires to vade,
In absence, loe! to leave with thee my hart,
That al my joy may live where thou doest rest.
I likewise use, to free thy hidden smart,
By secrete sighes which flies from covert brest,
My hart to send to joyne in ayde with thine,
That thou mayst joy, although in paine I pyne.