Classic Poem

When first I ended, then I first began,
The more I travell, further from my rest,
Where most I lost, there most of all I wan,
Pyned with hunger, rysing from a feast.

Mee thinks I flee, yet want I legs to goe,
Wise in conceite, in acte a very sot,
Ravisht with joy, amidst a hell of woe,
What most I seeme, that surest am I not.

I build my hopes, a world above the skye,
Yet with the Mole, I creepe into the earth,
In plenty, am I starv'd with penury,
And yet I surfet in the greatest dearth.
I have, I want, dispayre, and yet desire,
Burn'd in a Sea of Ice, & drown'd amidst a fire.