Classic Poem

Sonnet. VI.

Forgiue mee Deere, for thundring on thy name,
sith tis thy selfe that showes my loue distrest,
for fire exhald, in freezing clowdes possest,
warring for way, makes all the heauens exclaime.
Thy beautie so, the brightest liuing flame,
wrapt in my clowdie hart by winter prest,
scorning to dwell within so base a nest,
thunders in mee thine euerlasting fame.
O that my hart might still containe that fire,
or that the fire would alwaies light my hart,
then shouldst thou not disdaine my true desire,
or thinke I wrong'd thee, to reueale my smart.
For as the fire through freezing clowdes doth breake,
So, not my selfe, but thou in mee would'st speake.