Edmund Spenser

(1552 - 13 January 1599 / London / England)

Edmund Spenser Poems

1. The Faerie Queene (Dedicatory Sonnets) 4/16/2015
2. Sonnet Xxxv 12/31/2002
3. Sonnet Xxxix 12/31/2002
4. Sonnet Xxxviii 12/31/2002
5. Sonnet Xxxii 12/31/2002
6. The Shepheardes Calender: August 4/7/2010
7. The Shepheardes Calender: June 4/7/2010
8. Sonnet Xxxi 12/31/2002
9. The Shepheardes Calender: December 4/7/2010
10. The Shepheardes Calender: July 4/7/2010
11. Poem 97 12/31/2002
12. Poem 91 12/31/2002
13. The Shepheardes Calender: September 4/7/2010
14. Sonnet Xxv 12/31/2002
15. The Shepheardes Calender: Februarie 4/7/2010
16. The Shepheardes Calender: May 4/7/2010
17. Sonnet Vii 12/31/2002
18. Sonnet Xxxvi 12/31/2002
19. Sonnet Lxxxiii 12/31/2002
20. Sonnet Lxxxii 12/31/2002
21. Poem 5 12/31/2002
22. Poem 6 12/31/2002
23. Sonnet Lxxxiiii 12/31/2002
24. Sonnet Lxxxviii 12/31/2002
25. Sonnet Lxxi 12/31/2002
26. The Shepheardes Calender: November 4/7/2010
27. Sonnet Lxxvi 12/31/2002
28. Sonnet Xxix 12/31/2002
29. Sonnet Liii 12/31/2002
30. Sonnet L 12/31/2002
31. Sonnet Lxxxv 12/31/2002
32. Sonnet Lx 12/31/2002
33. Sonnet Xxxiii 12/31/2002
34. Poem 92 12/31/2002
35. Poem 12 12/31/2002
36. Sonnet Lxxix 12/31/2002
37. Poem 93 12/31/2002
38. Sonnet Lxii 12/31/2002
39. Poem 11 12/31/2002
40. Sonnet Xxviii 12/31/2002
Best Poem of Edmund Spenser

My Love Is Like To Ice

My love is like to ice, and I to fire:
How comes it then that this her cold so great
Is not dissolved through my so hot desire,
But harder grows the more I her entreat?
Or how comes it that my exceeding heat
Is not allayed by her heart-frozen cold,
But that I burn much more in boiling sweat,
And feel my flames augmented manifold?
What more miraculous thing may be told,
That fire, which all things melts, should harden ice,
And ice, which is congeal's with senseless cold,
Should kindle fire by wonderful device?
Such is the power of love in gentle ...

Read the full of My Love Is Like To Ice

Poem 20

BVt let stil Silence trew night watches keepe,
That sacred peace may in assurance rayne,
And tymely sleep, when it is tyme to sleepe,
May poure his limbs forth on your pleasant playne,
The whiles an hundred little winged loues,
Like diuers fethered doues,
Shall fly and flutter round about your bed,
And in the secret darke, that none reproues,
Their prety stealthes shal worke, & snares shal spread

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