Classic Poem

Sonnett

Itt gladdes the harte to see faire Phaebus ryse
Because he comforts every lyvinge thinge
And wee desire to knowe the starres in Skies
Our selves therby to wisshed portes to bringe
Some are content to rome farr on the Seas
In hope to gett the heapes off glistringe goode
And to recover health and happie ease
Wee yeelde our selves to suffer losse of bloode
To pluck the rose so pleasinge to the sighte
Wee do not spare to scratch amongeste the briers
To wynn renowne wee see the ventrous knighte
Hasts on his date before his youth expires
But why shoulde I pursue thy pathes o love
That of thy fruictes no taste at all cann prove.