Classic Poem

S ONNET

Since all that All, is altogether vaine ,
Vncertaine, mortall, momentanie, vile,
Which this Sin-Biac'd Bowle, the Earth, containes ,
My Penn an Heau'nly Ditty shall compile.
Vouchsafe, sweet Christ, my Paper, be thy Crosse:
My Pen, that Naile, that Nail'd thine holy Hand
Mine Ynke, thy Blood, wherewith thou didst ingrosse
Th' acquaintance of my Vowes infringèd Band:
The Subiect of my Songe, let be thy Glory,
The Burden of the same, thy Glories praise;
The Summe whereof, thy Passions sacred Story,
Let these be all and some of all my Laies ;
For, heau'nly Quires, by nature, do reioyce
When Art, in Graces Quire, reares Natures Voice .