Classic Poem

Homely hearts doe harbour quiet,
Little feare, and mickle solace:
States suspect their bed and diet,
Feare and craft do haunt the palace.
Little would I, little want I,
Where the minde and store agreeth,
Smallest comfort is not scantie,
Least he longs that little seeth.
Time hath beene that I have longed,
Foolish I, to like of folly,
To converse where honour thronged,
To my pleasures linked wholly.
Now I see, and seeing sorrow,
That the day consum'd returns not:
Who dare trust upon to-morrow,
When nor time, nor life sojourns not.

Homely hearts doe harbour quiet,
Little feare, and mickle solace:
States suspect their bed and diet,
Feare and craft do haunt the palace.
Little would I, little want I,
Where the minde and store agreeth,
Smallest comfort is not scantie,
Least he longs that little seeth.
Time hath beene that I have longed,
Foolish I, to like of folly,
To converse where honour thronged,
To my pleasures linked wholly.
Now I see, and seeing sorrow,
That the day consum'd returns not:
Who dare trust upon to-morrow,
When nor time, nor life sojourns not.