Classic Poem

Oft taking pen in hand, with words to cast my woes,
Beginning to account the sum of all my cares,
I well perceive my griefe in numerable growes,
And styll in reckonings rise more millions of dispayres.

And thus deviding of my fatall howres,
The payments of my love I read, and reading crosse,
And in substracting, set my sweets unto my sowres,
Th'arerage of my joyes, directs me to my losse.

And thus mine eyes, a debtor to thine eye,
Who by extortion gaineth all theyr lookes,
My hart hath payd such grievous usury,
That all her wealth lyes in thy Beauties bookes.
And all is thine which hath been due to mee,
And I a Banckrupt quite undone by thee.