Classic Poem

Shee comes, Shee comes, mount, mount, my Soule
Vnto the height of Admiration!
See how the Sunne him selfe begins to scoule
To see a fairer Sunne the Earth vpon!
O glorious Light (which makes our Hemispheare
Like Iupiters Starre-Chamber with tho Raies! )
How dost thou mee confound with Loue , and feare?
What praise but Wonder , can thy Wonders praise!
Stand, stand a loofe, come not to neere mine Eyes:
For, thou wilt make them lightlesse with the Light!
O mee! my Hart how with thy Beames, it Fryes!
What mean st (o Miracle!) to melt mee quite?
Hold, hold; no more; thy Beames from me auert,
Vnlesse, from them, thou hide me in the Hart.