Classic Poem

Thought, with good cause thou lik'st so well the night,
Since kind or chance gives both one livery:
Both sadly black, both blackly darkened be,
Night barred from sun, thou from thy own sun's light;
Silence in both displays his sullen might;
Slow heaviness in both holds one degree;
That full of doubts, thou of perplexity;
Thy tears express night's native moisture right;
In both a mazeful solitariness;
In night of sprites the ghastly powers stir,
In thee or sprites or sprited ghastliness:
But, but (alas) night's side the odds hath, far,
For that at length yet doth invite some rest,
Thou, though still tired, yet still dost it detest.