Classic Poem

Sonnet

Prodigall was nature fruitfull and devyne
Att hir birth day, to yelde her best and moste
Sweetly placinge within those eyes to shyne
Majestye that doth in humylitye boaste
Bewtye so rare as seconded by none
A minde reposde whenc no vaine fancyes ryse
Desyres that tend unto the heavenly throne
The worldes belovde, whom love cannott surpryse;
Wysedome by fortune not to bee controlde
Vertue beyonde the reache of tounge or penn
Skill that refynes our Baser age to golde
A plannett framde to raigne on happie men
The voices off our dayes the trompetts of her fame
And all posterityes as Eccoes to the same.