Edmund Spenser

(1552 - 13 January 1599 / London / England)

Edmund Spenser Poems

41. Poem 12 12/31/2002
42. Sonnet Lxxix 12/31/2002
43. Poem 93 12/31/2002
44. Sonnet Lxii 12/31/2002
45. Poem 11 12/31/2002
46. The Shepheardes Calender: September 4/7/2010
47. Sonnet Xxviii 12/31/2002
48. Sonnet Lxv 12/31/2002
49. Sonnet Vi 12/31/2002
50. Poem 94 12/31/2002
51. Poem 95 12/31/2002
52. Sonnet Xviii 12/31/2002
53. Poem 23 12/31/2002
54. Sonnet Lxiiii 12/31/2002
55. Sonnet Iiii 12/31/2002
56. Sonnet Xxiiii 12/31/2002
57. Prosopopoia: Or Mother Hubbard's Tale 1/1/2004
58. The Shepheardes Calender: March 4/7/2010
59. Sonnet Xxxvii 12/31/2002
60. Poem 14 12/31/2002
61. Sonnet Xlii 12/31/2002
62. The Shepheardes Calender: October 1/1/2004
63. Visions Of The Worlds Vanitie. 1/3/2003
64. Sonnet Lxxxvii 12/31/2002
65. Poem 90 12/31/2002
66. Sonnet Xxiii 12/31/2002
67. Sonnet Lxxiii 12/31/2002
68. Sonnet Xliiii 12/31/2002
69. Poem 8 12/31/2002
70. Sonnet Viii 12/31/2002
71. Sonnet Lxxii 12/31/2002
72. Sonnet Xxvii 12/31/2002
73. Sonnet Lxvi 12/31/2002
74. Sonnet Iii 12/31/2002
75. Sonnet Xlviii 12/31/2002
76. Sonnet Xiiii 12/31/2002
77. Sonnet Lxxiiii 12/31/2002
78. Sonnet Xix 12/31/2002
79. Sonnet Xvii 12/31/2002
80. Poem 96 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

Sonnet Xlv

LEaue lady, in your glasse of christall clene,
Your goodly selfe for euermore to vew:
and in my selfe, my inward selfe I meane,
most liuely lyke behold your semblant trew.
Within my hart, though hardly it can shew,
thing so diuine to vew of earthly eye:
the fayre Idea of your celestiall hew,
and euery part remaines immortally:
And were it not that through your cruelty,

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