Classic Poem

HE COMPARES HIMSELF TO A CANDLE-FLY .

Like to the seely fly,
To the dear light I fly
Of your disdainful eyes,
But in a diverse wise:
She with the flame doth play
By night alone, and I, both night and day.
She to a candle runs;
I to a light, far brighter than the sun's.
She near at hand is fired;
I both near hand, and far away retired.
She fondly thinks, nor dead, nor burnt to be;
But I my burning and my death foresee.