Classic Poem

How long, o heart, wilt shed my blood? Before the eye take shame at last
And sleep thou, too, o eye, and so Fulfil the heart its aim at last

Was't I indeed, that from my love's Fore-arm did kisses cull, o Lord?
Behold, now, how the foredawn prayer Effectual became at last.

My wish of this world and the next To me did the Provider grant;
The harp's speech to mine ear and eke To hand the Friend's tress came at last.

How long, wind like, wilt thou an ear Snatch from the harvest of the mean?
Pluck up a heart; provide thyself; Sow seed in thine own name at last.

Though well I wot thy house will ne'er Be China's Picture-stead, withal,
With thy musk-mixing pencil's point, Some picture do thou frame at last.

If in the night-watch realm, o heart, Thou shun not stress, the breath of dawn
Good news shall bring thee from the land Of thy beloved dame at last.

A moon-like fair the knee doth bend And wine like rubies proffereth:
Say'st thou, " I'm penitent? " Before The skinker have thou shame at last.