Classic Poem

Deare Parler , (loving lodging unto me)
Mine only Walke and Garden of Delight,
Ah who hath tooke thy Beautie now from thee?
And reft from me what most did please my sight?
 Ah if our wonted Sunne do not returne,
 (As absent Her) so, me, (dead) shalt thou mourne.

My Hart that scarce his fainting breath drawes hard,
Demaundeth still his tribute of mine eyes,
Needes must I say a too too small reward,
Whilst he his Masters sorrowes oremuch tries.
 (Poore Hart) thy Master wrongs thee I confesse,
 Yet cannot he amend it neere the lesse.

I beare my part with thee in this sad mone,
In this sad Quire where dolefull Notes I sing:
For not to any but to me alone,
This Roomth as uncouth seemes and griefe doth bring,
 Yet since she here did use her walke to make,
 These naked Walls Ile honor for her sake.

Ah Quondam Temple of my Goddesse faire ,
Great reason have I thee for to adore:
Thy Boords and Windowes I do holde as rare,
Since thou hast entertainde her heretofore,
 Though Saint be gone, and nought be left but Shrine ,
 Yet for her Love Ile hold thee as Divine .