Classic Poem

Ressave this harte whois Constancie wes sik
Whill it wes quick, I wot ye never knew
A harte more trew within a stomok stik
Till tym e the prik of Jelousie it slew,
Lyk as my heu (by deidly signis) furthshew —
Suppose that few persav'd my secreit smart.
Lo heir the hairt that ye your self ou'rthreu.
Fairweill, adew, sen death mon us depart.

Bot lo hou first my Legacy I leiv:
To God I give my Spirit in hevin so hie,
My Poesie I leave my Prince to preiv
No richt can reiv him of my Rhetorie,
My bains to be bot bureit whair I die.
I leiv to thee the hairt wes nevir fals
About thy hals to hing whare thou may sie.
Let thine to me then be as constant als.

Remember whair I said once eftirnone
Or March wer done, that thou thy cheeks suld weet
And for me greet or endit war that Mo o ne.
I sie ouer soon my Prophesie compleit.
O Lady sueet I feir we never meet
I feill my spreet is summond from above
For to remove. Nou welcome windinsheet.
Death givis decreet that thou must lose thy Love.

This sentence som thing I persaiv too sair,
To meit na mair with thee my Love. Alace
God give the e grace that na unkyndlie cair
Do the e dispair nor thy gude fame deface.

Give Patience place, considder weill the cace
This is the race that every man must rin
Thocht I begin wha had no langer space
Thee to imbrace once, God, if I micht win!

Sen for thy saik Death with his darte me shot
That I am bot a carioun of clay
Wha whylome lay about thy snauie throt,
Nou I must rot wha some tym stood so stay
What sall I say? This warld will away.
Anis on a day I seimd a semely sight
Thou wants the wight that never said the e nay.
Adeu for ay. This is a lang guidnicht.