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Gather the rose of love whilst yet is time.

Edmund Spenser

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Edmund Spenser
Died: 1599
Died: January 13
Poet
Translator
London
England
Edmund Spencer
Love
Whilst
Gather
Rose
Flower
Time

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Woe to the man that first did teach the cursed steel to bite in his own flesh, and make way to the living spirit!
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Men, when their actions succeed not as they would, are always ready to impute the blame thereof to heaven, so as to excuse their own follies.
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Ill seemes (sayd he) if he so valiant be, That he should be so sterne to stranger wight For seldom yet did living creature see That courtesie and manhood ever disagree.
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For of the soule the bodie forme doth take For the soule is forme, and doth the bodie make.
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Good is no good, but if it be spend, God giveth good for none other end.
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Fly from wrath sad be the sights and bitter fruits of war a thousand furies wait on wrathful swords.
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Greatest god below the sky.
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Is not short paine well borne, that brings long ease,And layes the soul to sleepe in quiet grave?Sleepe after toyle, port after stormie seas,Ease after warre, death after life does greatly please.
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Ah! when will this long weary day have end, And lende me leave to come unto my love? - Epithalamion
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In vain he seeketh others to suppress, Who hath not learn'd himself first to subdue.
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For if good were not praised more than ill, None would chuse goodness of his own free will.
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Sluggish idleness--the nurse of sin.
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Foul jealousy! that turnest love divine to joyless dread, and makest the loving heart with hateful thoughts to languish and to pine.
Edmund Spenser
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Make haste therefore, sweet love, whilst it is prime, For none can call again the passed time.
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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?
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So much more profitable and gracious is doctrine by example than by rule.
Edmund Spenser
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Full many mischiefs follow cruel wrath Abhorred bloodshed and tumultuous strife Unmanly murder and unthrifty scath, Bitter despite, with rancor's rusty knife And fretting grief the enemy of life All these and many evils more, haunt ire.
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Change still doth reign, and keep the greater sway.
Edmund Spenser
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So Orpheus did for his owne bride, So I unto my selfe alone will sing, The woods shall to me answer and my Eccho ring.
Edmund Spenser
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But O the exceeding grace Of highest God, that loves his creatures so, And all his works with mercy doth embrace, That blessed angels, he sends to and fro, To serve to wicked man, to serve his wicked foe.
Edmund Spenser