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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.

Edmund Spenser

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Edmund Spenser
Died: 1599
Died: January 13
Poet
Translator
London
England
Edmund Spencer
Men
Flow
Doth
Wind
Winds
Wise
Folly
Heaven
Rise
Light
Reflection
Thought
Thou
Take
Blow
Mind
East
Weigh

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Be bold, and everywhere be bold.
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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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And thus of all my harvest-hope I have Nought reaped but a weedye crop of care.
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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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So much more profitable and gracious is doctrine by example than by rule.
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All that in this world is great or gay, Doth, as a vapor, vanish and decay.
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All flesh doth frailty breed!
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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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Each goodly thing is hardest to begin.
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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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For easy things, that may be got at will, Most sorts of men do set but little store.
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Such is the power of love in gentle mind, That it can alter all the course of kind.
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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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Good is no good, but if it be spend, God giveth good for none other end.
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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 poets scrolls will outlive the monuments of stone. Genius survives all else is claimed by death.
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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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Thankfulness is the tune of angels.
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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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Gather the rose of love whilst yet is time.
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