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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
Whilst
Gather
Rose
Flower
Time
Love

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Waking love suffereth no sleepe: Say, that raging love dothe appall the weake stomacke: Say, that lamenting love marreth the musicall.
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So much more profitable and gracious is doctrine by example than by rule.
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For evil deeds may better than bad words be borne.
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Change still doth reign, and keep the greater sway.
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Man's wretched state, That floures so fresh at morne, and fades at evening late.
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But angels come to lead frail minds to rest in chaste desires, on heavenly beauty bound. You frame my thoughts, and fashion me within you stop my tongue, and teach my heart to speak.
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Oft stumbles at a straw.
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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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For since mine eyes your joyous sight did miss, my cheerful day is turned to cheerless night.
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For take thy ballaunce if thou be so wise, And weigh the winds that under heaven doth blow Or weigh the light that in the east doth rise Or weigh the thought that from man's mind doth flow.
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All that in this world is great or gay, Doth, as a vapor, vanish and decay.
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Nothing under heaven so strongly doth allure the sense of man, and all his mind possess, as beauty's love.
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For next to Death is Sleepe to be compared Therefore his house is unto his annext: Here Sleepe, ther Richesse, and hel-gate them both betwext.
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This iron world bungs down the stoutest hearts to lowest state for misery doth bravest minds abate.
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I was promised on a time To have reason for my rhyme From that time unto this season, I received nor rhyme nor reason.
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Then came October, full of merry glee.
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The noblest mind the best contentment has
Edmund Spenser
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Those that were up themselves, kept others low Those that were low themselves, held others hard He suffered them to ryse or greater grow But every one did strive his fellow down to throw.
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The nightingale is sovereign of song.
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How many great ones may remember'd be, Which in their days most famously did flourish, Of whom no word we hear, nor sign now see, But as things wip'd out with a sponge do perish, Because the living cared not to cherish No gentle wits, through pride or covetize, Which might their names forever memorize!
Edmund Spenser