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All that in this delightful garden grows should happy be and have immortal bliss.

Edmund Spenser

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Edmund Spenser
Died: 1599
Died: January 13
Poet
Translator
London
England
Edmund Spencer
Happiness
Delightful
Happy
Cheer
Bliss
Immortal
Appreciation
Gratitude
Joyfulness
Garden
Thankfulness
Grows
Cheerfulness

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For evil deeds may better than bad words be borne.
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At last, the golden orientall gate Of greatest heaven gan to open fayre, And Phoebus, fresh as brydegrome to his mate, Came dauncing forth, shaking his dewie hayre And hurls his glistring beams through gloomy ayre.
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Rising glory occasions the greatest envy, as kindling fire the greatest smoke.
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Then came October, full of merry glee.
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Thankfulness is the tune of angels.
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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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Greatest god below the sky.
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So much more profitable and gracious is doctrine by example than by rule.
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Be bold, and everywhere be bold.
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Bright as does the morning star appear, Out of the east with flaming locks bedight, To tell the dawning day is drawing near.
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Who will not mercy unto others show, How can he mercy ever hope to have?
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Oft stumbles at a straw.
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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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The man whom nature's self had made to mock herself, and truth to imitate.
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The fish once caught, new bait will hardly bite.
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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!
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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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Ah! when will this long weary day have end, And lende me leave to come unto my love? - Epithalamion
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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.
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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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