Classic Poem

Time was and is, and ever shall be still,
That I to honor thee will never spare,
But for to call it Love or Pure Goodwill ,
I never durst, although I seemde to dare,
 Then suffer me, to follow this my Vaine,
 Flattering my selfe, although I nothing gaine.

None pleased hath mine eyes, but ALBA bright,
None but sweete ALBA doth possesse my Hart,
Mine eares in ALBA, onely take delight,
And this my Soule, from ALBA nere shall part.
 To follow thee, all Fortunes Ile forsake,
 Adn unto thee alone, my selfe betake.

The Gods have set such difference twixt our state,
That all must be, pure Dewtie, Reverence;
Nothing I must terme LOVE (such is my Fate ,)
Except thou daine, therewith for to dispence
 And since I know that so thou dost command,
 I condescend will to it out of hand.

Yet my Unspotted Thoughts my pining Corse ,
My Discontented Life , let them obtaine
One blessed Favour through thy kinde remorse,
Though they not merit least part of the same.
 So I with Joy shall end my wearie daies,
 And dying, sound abroad thy nere dying Praise.