Classic Poem

Sonet 5.

Only hope of oure age that vertues dead
By youre sweet breath should be reviu'd againe,
Learning discourag'd longe by rude disdaine
By youre white hands is only cherished.

Thus others worth by yow is honoured:
But whoe shall honoure youres? poore wits in vayne
We seeke to pay the debts which yow pertayne
Till from youre selfe some wealth be borrowed.

Lend some youre tongues that euery nation may
In his owne heare youre vertuouse prayses blaz'd:
Lend them youre wit, youre iudgment, memorye,
Least they themselues should not knowe what to say.
And that thow mayst be lou'd as much as prays'd
My hearte thow mayst lend them, which I gaue thee.