Edmund Spenser

(1552 - 13 January 1599 / London / England)

Edmund Spenser Poems

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