Classic Poem

Then him controlling, that he left vndonne
Her eyes bright circle thus did answere make,
Restes mist with siluer cloude had clos'd her Sunne,
Nor could he draw them till she weare awake.
Why then quoth I were not these leaues darke shade
Vpon her cheekes depainted, as you see them:
Shape of a shadow can not well be made
Was answer'd, for shades shadowes none can eye them.
This reason, proues sure argument for me,
That my greefes image I can not set out:
Which might with liuely coloures blazed be.
Wherefore since nought, can bring the meanes about
That thou my sorrowes cause should vewe throughout,
Thou wilt not pitie me: but this was it.
Zeuxes had neither skill, nor colours fit.