Classic Poem

Sweet sung thy Bird in Ebon cage shut fast,
And did delight thy daintie eares so much,
As thou vouchsafdst to give him meate at last,
And gently didst his fethers stroke and tuch:
So Ladie, I likewise in th'Ebonie
Of thy bright eyes am prisoner, and doo sing
Thy Beauties praise; and yet not fed am I
By thee, yet live through thee: a wondrous thing.
Love to my hart thy Beautie doth supplie
For food, which els (throgh famine starvd) would die.