Classic Poem

OH I AM Cold ; the wombe of Earth may thaw
My frost; not waters in their Current draw
Such Chillnes; I am Cold
As the Sad house of winter; or the Feet
Of Rocks, involved where the waters meet;
And yet I am not old.

Oh I am Sad; as virgins, when they loose
Their pregnant hopes of him, they meant for Spouse;
Or widdowes in their Fate;
Sad, as a Parent, for his hopefull Heire:
Or as a Prince, deprived of Crowne, and Chaire;
Yet hardly know for what.

Oh I am wounded; deeply strucke, and beare
The fatall Javeline, with me everie where;
Into the marrow thrilled;
A Thousand Dolours, now assaile my hart,
Of which, Alcides hardly knew a part;
And yet I am not kill'd.

Oh I am Sicke; as women in their throes
Or men in rageing feavers; to my woes
The Gout, and Stone are Ease;
Fire in my Brest; and Poison fills my veins;
Bane in my Breath; and Frensie in my brains;
Yet know not my Disease.

Oh I am Dead; if it be death, to dwell
In Shades of night, in mansions next tOhell;
In fear's, and Miserie;
In Darknes, where noe hope of Light can enter,
In greifs unpittied, as though in the Center;
And yet I cannot Dye.