Classic Poem

Full lytle knowes my deare and sweeteste frynde
what wery nights my resteles fancye tryes
When all men els to geve theyr Cares an ende
with slombringe harts close upp their wakinge eyes
How ofte have I layde in my quiett Bedd
to thinke on her foreborne my nightlye ease
And to my selfe howe often have I sayde
with deepe fott syghes such tremblinge woordes as theis
Yee stately lymmes whom my desires pursue
wherso yee lodge receave your happie reste
And for his sake that vowes hym selfe to yowe
harbour on thoughte off me within that breste
Speakinge such woordes sometymes asleepe I fall
And in sweet dreames embrace those lymmes withall.