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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.

Edmund Spenser

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Edmund Spenser
Died: 1599
Died: January 13
Poet
Translator
London
England
Edmund Spencer
Mind
Gold
Chest
Men
Grace
Chests
World
Money
Circle
Covetous
Cannot
Fill
Triangle
Body
Circles
Triangles
May
Easily
Covetousness
Whole
Neither
Fills
Heart
Air
Doth

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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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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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What more felicitie can fall to creature Than to enjoy delight with libertie, And to be lord of all the workes of Nature, To raine in th' aire from earth to highest skie, To feed on flowres and weeds of glorious feature.
Edmund Spenser
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Yet is there one more cursed than they all, That canker-worm, that monster, jealousie, Which eats the heart and feeds upon the gall, Turning all love's delight to misery, Through fear of losing his felicity.
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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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Change still doth reign, and keep the greater sway.
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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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Death is an equall doome To good and bad, the common In of rest.
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The nightingale is sovereign of song.
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So let us love, dear Love, like as we ought Love is the lesson which the Lord us taught.
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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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And thus of all my harvest-hope I have Nought reaped but a weedye crop of care.
Edmund Spenser
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So much more profitable and gracious is doctrine by example than by rule.
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Thankfulness is the tune of angels.
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All that in this world is great or gay, Doth, as a vapor, vanish and decay.
Edmund Spenser
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Each goodly thing is hardest to begin.
Edmund Spenser
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For since mine eyes your joyous sight did miss, my cheerful day is turned to cheerless night.
Edmund Spenser
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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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The noblest mind the best contentment has
Edmund Spenser
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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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