Classic Poem

Sonnet

Myghtye is death and mightie Shee lykewise
Who in my mynde doth all the rest surpasse
All dies through death, I dye through hir faire eyes
And Shee as Deathe, invincyble Alas
As death is colde; so ys she framde off snowe
And lyke the snowe alwaies pure and white
Death layes the prowdest harts off all full lowe
My haught desyres, are humble in her sighte
Mercyles ys Death, Butt more cruell ys Shee
For deathe is blynde and knowes not whom to spare
Butt her faier Eyes my martyredom do see
Which makes me doubt She comforts in my Care
All men doo stryve to shunn of death the bitter darte
But death so sweete as Shee would well content my harte.