Classic Poem

Fly hence Pale Care, noe more remember
Past Sorrowes with the fled December
But let each present Cheeke appeare
Smooth as the Childhood of the yeare
And sing a Caroll here.
T'was braue, t'was braue could we comand the hand
Of Youths swift watch to stand
As yow haue done your day
Then should we not decay
But all we wither & our Light
Is spilt in euerlasting night
When as your Sight
Shewes like the Heavens aboue the Moone
Like an Eternall Noone
That sees noe setting Sunn.

Keepe vp those flames, & though you shroud
A while your forehead in a Cloude
Doe it like the Sun to write
I'th ayre, a greater Text of light
Welcome to all our vowes
And since you pay
To vs the day
Soe longe desir'd
See we haue fyr'd
Our holy Spicknard & ther's none
But brings his stick of Cynamon
His eager Eye, or Smoother Smyle
And layes it gently on the Pyle
Which thus enkindled we invoke
Your name amidst the sacred smoke.

Chorus

Come then greate Lord
And see our Alter burne
With Loue of your Returne
And not a man here but consumes
His soule to glad you in perfumes.
Rob: Herrick.