Classic Poem

If (Cruell) thou desirous art of blood,
Behold how I doo bleed in streaming wise:
Glut then thy selfe therewith if thou thinke good,
And doo content with blood thy bloodie eyes.
From brest it comes, where fainting hart doth lye,
And (for a gift) I it present to thee,
Although I know (through this) I soone shall dye:
(And yet to die it little grieveth mee)
Since tis my wish, my blood with soule as one
May rest, and that's with thee, or els with none.