Classic Poem

Warme showers raine fast from forth my blubbred eyes,
My heavie Thoughts are Clowdes replete with woes:
Hot lively Flames from out my breast arise,
My skalding sighs the wind's that forth them blowes:
 Fire burning Cancer and Aquarius cold,
 Ore me their powers predominant do hold.

The flames, themselves up to the heavens lift,
Where they by thousands round about doe turne:
The waters runne like to a Torrent swift;
Hence comes it that my selfe I drowne and burne,
 By reason of two spitefull Qualities,
 (Moysture and Heate) my life in danger lies.

My teares a great streame make, they so abound,
A quenchles burning this my secret Fire:
Hope doth despaire, and there her selfe hath drownde,
And Hart to cinders burnes through hot Desire:
 Fancie doth frolike, and doth still revive,
 Reason's so sick, not long sheele keepe alive.

ALBA my Teares accounteth as a Toy,
And for a sport mine ardent Heat she holds:
For in her eyes, Cocitus (me to noy)
And Phlegeton in breast she fierce enfolds.
 Thus she in my Hart doth still anatomise,
 With keenest rasor of her Crueltise.