Classic Poem

Rise, rise from sluggishnes, fly fast my Deere,
The early Larke prevents the rising lights:
The Sunne is risen, and shines in the rights
Of his bright glory, till your eyes appeare.

Arise, and make your two Sunnes so cleare show,
As he for shame his beames call backe againe,
And drowne them in the Sea for sorrowes paine,
That you, Commandresse of the light may know,

The dutie Sunne, and all must yeeld to you
Where richnesse of desert doth lie imbracd,
Night by your brightnes wholly now defac'd,
And Day alone left to you as lights due.

Yet be as waighty still in love to me,
Presse me with love, rather then lightly flie
My passions like to women, made to tie
Of purpose to unloose, and oft be free.

Thus may your lightnesse shewing ruine me,
I cannot live if your affections dye,
Or leave off living in my constancy
Be light and heavy too, so wee agree.