Classic Poem

Ismenia's eyes my soule divide ,
A faire yet haplesse Sheperdesse,
In whom rich Nature all her pride,
And Fates their poverty expresse.

To move the sute I feare to misse
Her worth and my respect deny;
For where even hope endanger'd is,
Lovers in silence use to dye.

Thus the desire I entertaine,
Neither shuns love, nor sute preferrs;
For though she to be mine disdaine,
I'me blest enough in being hers.