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And painful pleasure turns to pleasing pain.

Edmund Spenser

Ah! when will this long weary day have end, And lende me leave to come unto my love? – Epithalamion
EDMUND SPENSER

Leaving Love Myself
But O the exceeding grace Of highest God, that loves his creatures so, And all his works with mercy doth embrace, That blessed angels, he sends to and fro, To serve to wicked man, to serve his wicked foe.
EDMUND SPENSER

Creature Enemy God Grace Love Man Mercy Service Wickedness
Together linkt with adamantine chains.
EDMUND SPENSER

Chain Togetherness
I was promised on a time To have reason for my rhyme; From that time unto this season, I received nor rhyme nor reason.
EDMUND SPENSER

Myself Promise Reason Season Time
But times do change and move continually.
EDMUND SPENSER

Change Move Time
All sorts of flowers the which on earth do spring In goodly colours gloriously arrayed; Go to my love, where she is careless laid.
EDMUND SPENSER

Color Earth Flower Glory Goodness Herself Love Spring
Her angel’s face, As the great eye of heaven shined bright, And made a sunshine in the shady place.
EDMUND SPENSER

Angel Eyes Face Greatness Place Sunshine
In vain he seeketh others to suppress, Who hath not learn’d himself first to subdue.
EDMUND SPENSER

Himself Learning Wasted
Woe to the man that first did teach the cursed steel to bite in his own flesh, and make way to the living spirit!
EDMUND SPENSER

Flesh Live Man Spirit Teaching Yourself
Fretting grief the enemy of life.
EDMUND SPENSER

Enemy Grief Life One Liner
And painful pleasure turns to pleasing pain.
EDMUND SPENSER

Happiness Pain Pleasure
How many perils doe enfold The righteous man to make him daily fall.
EDMUND SPENSER

Adversity Fall Flower Right
Me seems the world is run quite out of square,From the first point of his appointed source,And being once amiss grows daily worse and worse.
EDMUND SPENSER

Growth Quite Run World Worst
In one consort there sat cruel revenge and rancorous despite, disloyal treason and heart-burning hate.
EDMUND SPENSER

Burn Cruelty Death Hate Heart Oneself Revenge Treason
For whatsoever from one place doth fall, Is with the tide unto an other brought: For there is nothing lost, that may be found, if sought.
EDMUND SPENSER

Fall Lost Oneself Place
Foul jealousy! that turnest love divine to joyless dread, and makest the loving heart with hateful thoughts to languish and to pine.
EDMUND SPENSER

Divine Hate Heart Jealous Joy Love Thinking

And painful pleasure turns to pleasing pain.

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And painful pleasure turns to pleasing pain.

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