Spirit mine polite, who hath broken thyself
So early wakes up the unsatisfied life,
Rest there in the Sky eternally,
And hurrah for me here in the constantly sorry dirt.

If there on the transparent bench, where thou climbeth
Storage awakens life if he says yes,
Don't forget thyself of that spicy love
Which right now on my eyes so pure thou hath seen.

And if thou turn over that he trim to deserve thyself
Some thing to pain that stayed put on me
From the spot, indelebile, for misplacing thee,

Beg Good Bye that thine years shrunk
That so much I give up lightly myself peeking at thee from here,
How much I give up of he brought my eyes to thee.

-- Louis of Big Beds (ca. 1560)

LC->PTG