SWeet warriour when shall I haue peace with you?
High time it is, this warre now ended were:
which I no lenger can endure to sue,
ne your incessant battry more to beare:
So weake my powres, so sore my wounds appeare,
that wonder is how I should liue a iot,
seeing my hart through launched euery where
with thousand arrowes, which your eies haue shot:
Yet shoot ye sharpely still, and spare me not,
but glory thinke to make these cruel stoures,
ye cruell one, what glory can be got,
in slaying him that would liue gladly yours?
Make peace therefore, and graunt me timely grace.
that al my wounds will heale in little space.
Edmund Spenser's Other Poems
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Comments about this poem (Sonnet LVII by Edmund Spenser )
Did you read them?
- Sonnet: How Cancers Kill!, Dr John Celes
- My love xi, binod bastola
- आंहा उदै बुंजासे आदार गैया, Ronjoy Brahma
- CUTTING EDGE, Satish Verma
- Will never love nor marry unless, Melikhaya Zagagana
- Image of God, gajanan mishra
- Countrification, bill costley
- Not Alone At All, Francie Lynch
- A passing stranger by Laura's house, Melikhaya Zagagana
- Celebration Of Democracy, Asit Kumar Sanyal
Poem of the Day
- 04 Tongues Made Of Glass, Shaun Shane
- Daffodils, William Wordsworth
- The Road Not Taken, Robert Frost
- 1914 V: The Soldier, Rupert Brooke
- Phenomenal Woman, Maya Angelou
- Still I Rise, Maya Angelou
- A Poison Tree, William Blake
- If, Rudyard Kipling
- A New Friend, Dejan Stojanovic
- Being With You, Heather Burns
- Heather Burns
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(28 November 1757 – 12 August 1827)
(13 September 1916 – 23 November 1990)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)