Edmund Spenser

(1552 - 13 January 1599 / London / England)

Edmund Spenser Poems

161. Prothalamion 1/3/2003
162. So Let Us Love 1/3/2003
163. A Hymn In Honour Of Beauty 1/3/2003
164. Amoretti Lxxix: Men Call You Fair 1/1/2004
165. Amoretti Iii: The Sovereign Beauty 1/3/2003
166. Astrophel 1/3/2003
167. Sonnet 75 1/13/2003
168. Poem 24 12/31/2002
169. Amoretti Lxvii: Like As A Huntsman 1/3/2003
170. Epithalamion 1/4/2003
171. A Ditty 1/4/2003
172. Poem 1 12/31/2002
173. Amoretti Lxxv: One Day I Wrote Her Name 1/3/2003
174. Easter 1/4/2003
175. Sonnet 54 1/13/2003
176. Ice And Fire 1/3/2003
177. My Love Is Like To Ice 1/3/2003

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Best Poem of Edmund Spenser

Sonnet 54

Of this worlds theatre in which we stay,
My love like the spectator ydly sits
Beholding me that all the pageants play,
Disguysing diversly my troubled wits.
Sometimes I joy when glad occasion fits,
And mask in myrth lyke to a comedy:
Soone after when my joy to sorrow flits,
I waile and make my woes a tragedy.
Yet she, beholding me with constant eye,
Delights not in my merth nor rues my smart:
But when I laugh she mocks, and when I cry
She laughs and hardens evermore her heart.
What then can move her? if nor merth nor mone,
She is no woman, but a senceless...

Read the full of Sonnet 54

Sonnet Lxxxv

THe world that cannot deeme of worthy things,
when I doe praise her, say I doe but flatter:
so does the Cuckow, when the Mauis sings,
begin his witlesse note apace to clatter.
But they that skill not of so heauenly matter,
all that they know not, enuy or admyre,
rather then enuy let them wonder at her,
but not to deeme of her desert aspyre.
Deepe in the closet of my parts entyre,

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