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I learned have, not to despise,What ever thing seemes small in common eyes.

Edmund Spenser

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Edmund Spenser
Died: 1599
Died: January 13
Poet
Translator
London
England
Edmund Spencer
Eyes
Common
Eye
Ever
Thing
Despise
Learned
Small

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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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And thus of all my harvest-hope I have Nought reaped but a weedye crop of care.
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Oft stumbles at a straw.
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Gather the rose of love whilst yet is time.
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All flesh doth frailty breed!
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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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For if good were not praised more than ill, None would chuse goodness of his own free will.
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Man's wretched state, That floures so fresh at morne, and fades at evening late.
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The fish once caught, new bait will hardly bite.
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Rising glory occasions the greatest envy, as kindling fire the greatest smoke.
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For evil deeds may better than bad words be borne.
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Unhappie Verse, the witnesse of my unhappie state, Make thy selfe fluttring wings of thy fast flying Thought
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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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A circle cannot fill a triangle, so neither can the whole world, if it were to be compassed, the heart of man a man may as easily fill a chest with grace as the heart with gold. The air fills not the body, neither doth money the covetous mind of man.
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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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The poets scrolls will outlive the monuments of stone. Genius survives all else is claimed by death.
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Each goodly thing is hardest to begin.
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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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For all that faire is, is by nature goodThat is a signe to know the gentle blood.
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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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