Classic Poem

How like a fire doth love increase in mee,
The longer that itt lasts, the stronger still,
The greater purer, brighter, and doth fill
Noe eye with wunder more, then hopes still bee

Bred in my brest, when fires of love are free
To use that part to theyr best pleasing will,
And now impossible itt is to kill
The heat soe great wher Love his strength doth see.

Mine eyes can scarce sustaine the flames my hart
Doth trust in them my passions to impart,
And languishingly strive to show my love;

My breath nott able is to breathe least part
Of that increasing fuell of my smart;
Yett love I will till I butt ashes prove.