Classic Poem

When I did part from thee the other night,
Me thought a fowle blacke Dog with ugly shape
Did follow me, and did me sore affright,
And all the way did greedy on me gape:
Nor I this curre how he at me did howle
Can well as yet forget, with chaps most fowle.
Then thinking of his colour hatefull blacke,
Me thought some ill, my Thought did feare to come,
And said within me, turne againe, turne backe,
If forward thou doest go, thou art undone.
Then pardon Lady, if I backe againe
Am come this night with you for to remaine.