Like as the culver on the bared bough Sits mourning for the absence of her mate.
EDMUND SPENSERLike as the culver on the bared bough Sits mourning for the absence of her mate.
EDMUND SPENSERSo passeth, in the passing of a day, Of mortal life the leaf, the bud, the flower.
EDMUND SPENSERIn vain he seeketh others to suppress, Who hath not learn’d himself first to subdue.
EDMUND SPENSERBut times do change and move continually.
EDMUND SPENSERFor next to Death is Sleepe to be compared; Therefore his house is unto his annext: Here Sleepe, ther Richesse, and hel-gate them both betwext.
EDMUND SPENSERDeath is an equall doome To good and bad, the common In of rest.
EDMUND SPENSERThose that were up themselves, kept others low; Those that were low themselves, held others hard; He suffered them to ryse or greater grow; But every one did strive his fellow down to throw.
EDMUND SPENSERGood is no good, but if it be spend, God giveth good for none other end.
EDMUND SPENSERIn one consort there sat cruel revenge and rancorous despite, disloyal treason and heart-burning hate.
EDMUND SPENSERFor there is nothing lost, that may be found, if sought.
EDMUND SPENSERBut angels come to lead frail minds to rest in chaste desires, on heavenly beauty bound. You frame my thoughts, and fashion me within; you stop my tongue, and teach my heart to speak.
EDMUND SPENSERAll that in this world is great or gay, Doth, as a vapor, vanish and decay.
EDMUND SPENSERAll sorts of flowers the which on earth do spring In goodly colours gloriously arrayed; Go to my love, where she is careless laid.
EDMUND SPENSERI was promised on a time To have reason for my rhyme; From that time unto this season, I received nor rhyme nor reason.
EDMUND SPENSERWoe to the man that first did teach the cursed steel to bite in his own flesh, and make way to the living spirit!
EDMUND SPENSERFull little knowest thou that hast not tried, What hell it is in suing long to bide: To loose good dayes, that might be better spent; To waste long nights in pensive discontent; To speed to-day, to be put back to-morrow; To feed on hope, to pine with feare and sorrow.
EDMUND SPENSER