All Poems
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Sonnet LXV
© Edmund Spenser
THe doubt which ye misdeeme, fayre loue, is vaine
That fondly feare to loose your liberty,
when loosing one, two liberties ye gayne,
and make him bond that bondage earst dyd fly.
Poem 95
© Edmund Spenser
VNto his mother straight he weeping came,
and of his griefe complayned:
Who could not chose but laugh at his fond game,
though sad to see him pained.
Sonnet XXIIII
© Edmund Spenser
WHen I behold that beauties wonderment,
And rare perfection of each goodly part;
of natures skill the only complement,
I honor and admire the makers art.
Sonnet XVIII
© Edmund Spenser
THe rolling wheele that runneth often round,
The hardest steele in tract of time doth teare:
and drizling drops that often doe redound,
the firmest flint doth in continuance weare.
Sonnet LXX
© Edmund Spenser
FResh spring the herald of loues mighty king,
In whose cote armour richly are displayd,
all sorts of flowers the which on earth do spring
in goodly colours gloriously arrayd.
Poem 17
© Edmund Spenser
Now ceasse ye damsels your delights forepast,
Enough is it, that all the day was youres:
Now day is doen, and night is nighing fast:
Now bring the Bryde into the brydall boures.
Poem 14
© Edmund Spenser
NOw al is done; bring home the bride againe,
bring home the triumph of our victory,
Bring home with you the glory of her gaine,
With ioyance bring her and with iollity.
Sonnet LXXIIII
© Edmund Spenser
MOst happy letters fram'd by skilfull trade,
with which that happy name was first defynd:
the which three times thrise happy hath me made,
with guifts of body, fortune and of mind.
Sonnet LXXXIII
© Edmund Spenser
MY hungry eyes, through greedy couetize,
Still to behold the obiect of theyr payne:
with no contentment can themselues suffize,
but hauing pine, and hauing not complayne
Sonnet LXXX
© Edmund Spenser
AFter so long a race as I haue run
Through Faery land, which those six books co[m]pile
giue leaue to rest me being halfe fordonne,
and gather to my selfe new breath awhile.
From 'Daphnaida'
© Edmund Spenser
SHE fell away in her first ages spring,
Whil'st yet her leafe was greene, and fresh her rinde,
And whil'st her braunch faire blossomes foorth did bring,
She fell away against all course of kinde.
Sonnet LXVIII
© Edmund Spenser
MOst glorious Lord of lyfe that on this day,
Didst make thy triumph ouer death and sin:
and hauing harrowd hell didst bring away,
captiuity thence captiue vs to win.
Poem 19
© Edmund Spenser
LEt no lamenting cryes, nor dolefull teares,
Be heard all night within nor yet without:
Ne let false whispers breeding hidden feares,
Breake gentle sleepe with misconceiued dout.
Sonnet LXIX
© Edmund Spenser
THe famous warriors of the anticke world,
Vsed Trophees to erect in stately wize:
in which they would the records haue enrold,
of theyr great deeds and valarous emprize.
Sonnet II
© Edmund Spenser
VNquiet thought, whom at the first I bred,
Of th'inward bale of my loue pined hart:
and sithens haue with sighes and sorrowes fed,
till greater then my wombe thou woxen art.
Sonnet LXI
© Edmund Spenser
THe glorious image of the makers beautie,
My souerayne faynt, the Idoll of my thought,
dare not henceforth aboue the bounds of dewtie,
t'accuse of pride, or rashly blame for ought.
Poem 24
© Edmund Spenser
SOng made in lieu of many ornaments,
With which my loue should duly haue bene dect,
Which cutting off through hasty accidents,
Ye would not stay your dew time to expect,
Sonnet LIX
© Edmund Spenser
THrise happie she, that is so well assured
Vnto her selfe and setled so in hart:
that nether will for better be allured,
ne feard with worse to any chaunce to start,
Sonnet XXXIX
© Edmund Spenser
SWeet smile, the daughter of the Queene of loue,
Expressing all thy mothers powrefull art:
with which she wonts to temper angry loue,
when all the gods he threats with thundring dart.
Poem 15
© Edmund Spenser
RIng ye the bels, ye yong men of the towne,
And leaue your wonted labors for this day:
This day is holy; doe ye write it dovvne,
that ye for euer it remember may.
