Classic Poem

Teares, vowes, and prayers winne the hardest hart;
Teares, vowes, and prayers have I spent in vaine:
Teares cannot soften Flint, nor vowes convart;
Prayers prevaile not with a quaint disdaine.
I lose my teares, where I have lost my love;
I vowe my faith, where faith is not regarded;
I pray in vaine, a merciles to move:
So rare a faith ought better be rewarded.
Yet though I cannot win her will with teares,
Though my soule's Idoll scorneth all my vowes,
Though all my prayers be to so deafe eares,
No favour though the cruell faire allowes;
Yet will I weepe, vowe, pray to cruell shee;
Flint, frost, disdaine, weares, melts, and yeelds, we see.