Much can they praise the trees so straight and high, The sailing pine,the cedar proud and tall, The vine-prop elm, the poplar… — Edmund Spenser Copy Share Image
Fly from wrath; sad be the sights and bitter fruits of war; a thousand furies wait on wrathful swords. — Edmund Spenser Copy Share Image
But as it falleth, in the gentlest hearts Imperious love hath highest set his throne, And tyrannizeth in the bitter smarts Of… — Edmund Spenser Copy Share Image
Full many mischiefs follow cruel wrath; Abhorred bloodshed and tumultuous strife Unmanly murder and unthrifty scath, Bitter despite, with rancor's rusty knife;… — Edmund Spenser Copy Share Image
In youth, before I waxe' d old, The blind boy,Venus' baby, For want of cunning made me bold, In bitter hive to… — Edmund Spenser Copy Share Image
Sweet is the rose, but grows upon a brere; Sweet is the juniper, but sharp his bough; Sweet is the eglantine, but… — Edmund Spenser Copy Share Image
“All this world's glory seemeth vain to me, And all their shows but shadows, saving she.” — Edmund Spenser Copy Share Image
The merry cuckow, messenger of Spring, His trumpet shrill hath thrice already sounded. — Edmund Spenser Copy Share Image
Much can they praise the trees so straight and high, The sailing pine,the cedar proud and tall, The vine-prop elm, the poplar never dry,… — Edmund Spenser Copy Share Image
“The whiles some one did chaunt this louely lay; Ah see, who so faire thing doest faine to see, In springing flowre the image… — Edmund Spenser Copy Share Image
Make haste therefore, sweet love, whilst it is prime, For none can call again the passed time. — Edmund Spenser Copy Share Image
In one consort there sat cruel revenge and rancorous despite, disloyal treason and heart-burning hate. — Edmund Spenser Copy Share Image
Good is no good, but if it be spend, God giveth good for none other end. — Edmund Spenser Copy Share Image
“There is nothing lost, but may be found, if sought. (No hay nada perdido, que no pueda encontrarse, si se lo busca)” — Edmund Spenser Copy Share Image
“It is the mynd, that maketh good or ill, That maketh wretch or happie, rich or poore: For some, that hath abundance at his… — Edmund Spenser Copy Share Image
Sweet breathing Zephyrus did softly play, A gentle spirit, that lightly did delay Hot Titan's beams, which then did glister fair — Edmund Spenser Copy Share Image
