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Make haste therefore, sweet love, whilst it is prime, For none can call again the passed time.

Edmund Spenser

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Edmund Spenser
Died: 1599
Died: January 13
Poet
Translator
London
England
Edmund Spencer
Sweet
Call
Make
Whilst
Time
Haste
Love
Prime
Passed
None
Therefore

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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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So Orpheus did for his owne bride, So I unto my selfe alone will sing, The woods shall to me answer and my Eccho ring.
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Thankfulness is the tune of angels.
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Is not short paine well borne, that brings long ease,And layes the soul to sleepe in quiet grave?Sleepe after toyle, port after stormie seas,Ease after warre, death after life does greatly please.
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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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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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So let us love, dear Love, like as we ought Love is the lesson which the Lord us taught.
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I learned have, not to despise,What ever thing seemes small in common eyes.
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The noblest mind the best contentment has
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In vain he seeketh others to suppress, Who hath not learn'd himself first to subdue.
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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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But O the exceeding grace Of highest God, that loves his creatures so, And all his works with mercy doth embrace, That blessed angels, he sends to and fro, To serve to wicked man, to serve his wicked foe.
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All that in this world is great or gay, Doth, as a vapor, vanish and decay.
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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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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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Good is no good, but if it be spend, God giveth good for none other end.
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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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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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And thus of all my harvest-hope I have Nought reaped but a weedye crop of care.
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