Classic Poem

The Golden Age was when the world was young,
Nature so rich, as earth did need no sowing,
Malice not known, the serpents had not stung,
Wit was but sweet affections overflowing;

Desire was free, and beauty's first-begotten;
Beauty then neither net, nor made by art,
Words out of thoughts brought forth, and not forgotten;
The laws were inward that did rule the heart.

The Brazen Age is now when earth is worn,
Beauty grown sick, Nature corrupt and nought,
Pleasure untimely dead as soon as born,
Both words and kindness strangers to our thought:

If now this changing world do change her head,
Caelica, what have her new lords for to boast?
The old lord knows desire is poorly fed,
And sorrows not a wavering province lost,
Since in the gilt age Saturn ruled alone,
And in this painted, planets every one.