Classic Poem

Sawest thou not that liquid ball
Which from her tender eye did fall
Sure 'twas no obedient drop
Taught at will to flow or stopp
Such as the easy-tutour'd eye
Now keepes in, then lets flye.
I know ith'midst of mirth, that there
Are spongie eyes can squeeze a teare.
I know there are of those that stand
At station and expect command
Streames straind to march in ranke and file
The foolish lover to beguile.
But hers were true, and seeing there were
Of those before us did averre
The Soule was water may not I
Sweare hers did glide out of her eye.
Soe upon the thirstye ground
Cleere and gentle, soft and round
ffalls the dew and makes the earth
Travaile with a fruitfull birth.
So the bounty of the skie
Dropping fatnes doth supplie
Th' impoverisht plant with life and feeds
The tender infancy of seedes.
O now the certaine cause I know
from whence the rose and Lilly grow
In her cheeke, the often showres
Which she weepes doth breede the flowers[.]
Did the enamoured moisture steale
Downe to her lippe in hope to seale
That with a kisse? or would it faine
Salute her breast in hope to gaine
A wisht for entrance, there to sitt
With thoughts as innocent as it?
O tell mee what can wee deny
Petitioning humilitie?
Or what suite can wee deferre
When the eye turnes Oratour[?]
A tear so true, soe faire, so good
Might have stopt Deucalions flood.
If this barren age of ours
Would out of waters and of showres
Call a god, as they before
Did heaven with Mars and Venus store.
Heere better might two gods arise
This from her cheekes, that from her eyes.