Classic Poem

When my good angel guides me to the place
Where all my good I do in Stella see,
That heav'n of joys throws only down on me
Thundered disdains and lightnings of disgrace:
But when the rugged'st step of fortune's race
Makes me fall from her sight, then sweetly she
With words, wherein the Muses' treasures be,
Shows love and pity to my absent case.
Now I, wit-beaten long by hardest fate,
So dull am, that I cannot look into
The ground of this fierce love and lovely hate:
Then some good body tell me how I do,
Whose presence, absence, absence presence is;
Blest in my curse, and cursed in my bliss.