Classic Poem

Early when cocks do crow
Ere the stars dwindle,
Down to the hearth I go,
Fire must I kindle.

Fair leap the flames on high,
Sparks they whirl drunken;
I watch them listlessly
In sorrow sunken.

Sudden it comes to me,
Youth so fair seeming,
That all the night of thee
I have been dreaming.

Tears then on tears do run
For my false lover;
Thus has the day begun —
Would it were over!