Classic Poem

Resound my voice, ye woods that hear me plain,
Both hills and vales causing reflexion;
And rivers eke, record ye of my pain,
Which have ye oft forced by compassion,
As judges, lo, to hear my exclamation:
Among whom pity, I find, doth remain;
Where I it seek, alas, there is disdain.

Oft ye rivers, to hear my woeful sound
Have stopt your course, and plainly to express
Many a tear by moisture of the ground
The earth hath wept to hear my heaviness,
Which causeless to suffer without redress,
The hugy oaks have roarèd in the wind,
Each thing methought complaining in their kind.

Why then, alas, doth not she on me rue?
Or is her heart so hard that no pity
May in it sink, my joy for to renew?
O tigress heart, who hath so cloakèd thee,
That art so cruel, covered with beauty?
There is no grace from thee that may proceed,
But, as reward, death for to be my meed?