Classic Poem

Sonnet. VIII.

Vnhappy day, vnhappy month and season,
when first proud loue my ioyes away adiourning
pour'd into mine eye, (to her eye turning)
a deadly iuyce, vnto my greene thoughts gayson.
Prysoner I am vnto the eye I gaze on,
eternally my loues flame is in burning,
a mortall shaft still wounds mee in my mourning;
thus prisond, burnt & slain, the sprit, the soule & reason.
What tids me then, since these paines which annoy mee,
in my dispaire are euer-more increasing?
the more I loue, lesse is my paines releasing,
that cursed be the fortune which destroyes me.
The hower, the month, the season and the cause,
When loue first made me thrall to louers lawes.