Classic Poem

Count the sighs, and count the teares,
Which have in part my budding yeares:
Comment on my wofull looke,
Which is now blacke sorrows booke.
Read how love is overcome,
Weepe and sigh, and then be dumbe.
Say it was your charity
To helpe him whose eyes are dry.
Here paint my Cleora's name,
Then a heart, and then a flame,
Then marke how the heart doth fry
When Cleora is so nigh.
Though the flame did do its part,
'Twas the name that broke the heart.
Peace, no more, no more you need
My sad history to read.
Fold the paper up agen,
And report to other men
These complaints can justly prove
Hearts may breake, that be in love.