Classic Poem

MADAM ,

Who knows your greatness cannot but with fear
Draw near your altar to make off'rings there,
But whoso knows your goodness may make bold,
And with a mite as with a mine of gold,
As confidently sacrifice to you;
And this is it that must plead pardon now,
Both for the poorness of my gifts and lines.
Princes are gods; gods laugh to see their shrines
Adorned with any gift, but of that kind
That Irus may as well as Craesus find.
They know how worldlings personate their parts,
And mask gold presents within leaden hearts.
They know how gifts at Court are but a train,
To steal from great ones twice as good again.
Now I have no such end; my poor oblation
At this auspicious time of salutation,
Had it a tongue, this only would it say,
Heav'ns heap upon you many a New Year's Day.