Edmund Spenser

(1552 - 13 January 1599 / London / England)

Sonnet Lii - Poem by Edmund Spenser

SO oft as homeward I from her depart,
I goe lyke one that hauing lost the field:
is prisoner led away with heauy hart,
despoyld of warlike armes and knowen shield.
So doe I now my selfe a prisoner yeeld,
to sorrow and to solitary paine:
from presence of my dearest deare exylde,
longwhile alone in languor to remaine.
There let no thought of ioy or pleasure vaine,
dare to approch, that may my solace breed:
but sudden dumps and drery sad disdayne,
of all worlds gladnesse more my torment feed.
So I her absens will my penaunce make,
that of her presens I my meed may take.


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Read poems about / on: sorrow, sad, lost, alone, sonnet



Poem Submitted: Tuesday, December 31, 2002



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