Classic Poem

Flye to her heart, hover about her heart,
With daintie kisses mollife her heart:
Pierce with thy arrowes her obdurate heart,
With sweet allurements ever move her heart.
At midday and at midnight touch her heart,
Be lurking closely, nestle about her heart:
With power, (thou art a god) command her heart,
Kindle thy coales of love about her heart,
Yea even into thy selfe transforme her heart.
Ah she must love, be sure thou have her heart,
And I must dye, if thou have not her heart.
Thy bed (if thou rest well) must be her heart:
He hath the best part sure that hath the heart:
What have I not, if I have but her heart?