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Edmund Spenser
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(1552-1599)
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Poem 1
YE learned sisters which haue oftentimes
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Poem 10
TEll me ye merchants daughters did ye see
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Poem 11
BVt if ye saw that which no eyes can see,
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Poem 12
OPen the temple gates vnto my loue,
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Poem 13
Behold whiles she before the altar stands
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Poem 14
NOw al is done; bring home the bride againe,
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Poem 15
RIng ye the bels, ye yong men of the towne,
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Poem 16
AH when will this long vveary day haue end,
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Poem 17
Now ceasse ye damsels your delights forepast,
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Poem 18
NOw welcome night, thou night so long expected,
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Poem 19
LEt no lamenting cryes, nor dolefull teares,
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Poem 2
EArly before the worlds light giuing lampe,
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Poem 20
BVt let stil Silence trew night watches keepe,
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Poem 21
WHo is the same, which at my window peepes?
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Poem 22
ANd thou great Iuno, which with awful might
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Poem 23
And ye high heauens, the temple of the gods,
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Poem 24
SOng made in lieu of many ornaments,
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Poem 3
BRing with you all the Nymphes that you can heare
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Poem 4
YE Nymphes of Mulla which with carefull heed,
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Poem 5
WAke now my loue, awake; for it is time,
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Poem 6
My loue is now awake out of her dreame,
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Poem 7
NOw is my loue all ready forth to come,
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Poem 8
HArke how the Minstrels gin to shrill aloud,
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Poem 9
LOe where she comes along with portly pace,
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Poem 90
IN youth before I waxed old.
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Poem 91
I Saw in secret to my Dame,
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Poem 92
VPon a day as loue lay sweetly slumbring,
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Poem 93
TO whom his mother closely smiling sayd,
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Poem 94
NAthlesse the cruell boy not so content,
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Poem 95
VNto his mother straight he weeping came,
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Poem 96
SHe tooke him streight full pitiously lamenting,
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Poem 97
THe wanton boy was shortly wel recured,
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Sonnet I
HAppy ye leaues when as those lilly hands,
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Sonnet II
VNquiet thought, whom at the first I bred,
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Sonnet III
THe souerayne beauty which I doo admyre,
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Sonnet IIII
NEw yeare forth looking out of Ianus gate,
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Sonnet IX
LOng-while I sought to what I might compare
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Sonnet L
LOng languishing in double malady,
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Sonnet LI
DOe I not see that fayrest ymages
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Sonnet LII
SO oft as homeward I from her depart,
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Sonnet LIII
THe Panther knowing that his spotted hyde,
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Sonnet LIIII
OF this worlds Theatre in which we stay,
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Sonnet LIX
THrise happie she, that is so well assured
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Sonnet LV
SO oft as I her beauty doe behold,
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Sonnet LVI
FAyre ye be sure, but cruell and vnkind,
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Sonnet LVII
SWeet warriour when shall I haue peace with you?
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Sonnet LVIII By Her That Is Most Assured To Her Selfe
WEake is th'assurance that weake flesh reposeth,
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Sonnet LX
They that in course of heauenly spheares are skild,
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Sonnet LXI
THe glorious image of the makers beautie,
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Sonnet LXII
THe weary yeare his race now hauing run,
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Sonnet LXIII
AFter long stormes and tempests sad assay,
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Sonnet LXIIII
COmming to kisse her lyps, (such grace I found)
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Sonnet LXIX
THe famous warriors of the anticke world,
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Sonnet LXIX
FAyre cruell, why are ye so fierce and cruell?
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Sonnet LXV
THe doubt which ye misdeeme, fayre loue, is vaine
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Sonnet LXVI
TO all those happy blessings which ye haue,
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Sonnet LXVII
Lyke as a huntsman after weary chace,
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Sonnet LXVIII
MOst glorious Lord of lyfe that on this day,
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Sonnet LXX
FResh spring the herald of loues mighty king,
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Sonnet LXXI
I Ioy to see how in your drawen work,
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Sonnet LXXII
OFt when my spirit doth spred her bolder winges,
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SOnnet LXXIII
BEing my selfe captyued here in care,
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Sonnet LXXIIII
MOst happy letters fram'd by skilfull trade,
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Sonnet LXXIX
MEn call you fayre, and you doe credit it,
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Sonnet LXXVI
FAyre bosome fraught with vertues richest tresure,
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Sonnet LXXVII
Was it a dreame, or did I see it playne,
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Sonnet LXXX
AFter so long a race as I haue run
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Sonnet LXXXI
Fayre is my loue, when her fayre golden heares,
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Sonnet LXXXII
Ioy of my life, full oft for louing you
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Sonnet LXXXIII
MY hungry eyes, through greedy couetize,
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Sonnet LXXXIIII
LEt not one sparke of filthy lustfull fyre
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Sonnet LXXXIX
LYke as the Culuer on the bared bough,
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Sonnet LXXXV
THe world that cannot deeme of worthy things,
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Sonnet LXXXVI
VEnemous toung tipt with vile adders sting,
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Sonnet LXXXVII
SInce I did leaue the presence of my loue,
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Sonnet LXXXVIII
SInce I haue lackt the comfort of that light,
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Sonnet V
RVdely thou wrongest my deare harts desire,
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Sonnet VI
BE nought dismayd that her vnmoued mind,
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Sonnet VII
Fayre eyes, the myrrour of my mazed hart,
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Sonnet VIII
MOre then most faire, full of the liuing fire,
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Sonnet X
VNrighteous Lord of loue what law is this,
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Sonnet XI
DAyly when I do seeke and sew for peace,
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Sonnet XII
ONe day I sought with her hart-thrilling eies,
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Sonnet XIII
IN that proud port, which her so goodly graceth,
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Sonnet XIIII
REtourne agayne my forces late dismayd,
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Sonnet XIX
THe merry Cuckow, messenger of Spring,
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Sonnet XL
MArk when she smiles with amiable cheare,
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Sonnet XLII
THe loue which me so cruelly tormenteth,
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Sonnet XLIII
SHall I then silent be or shall I speake?
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Sonnet XLIIII
WHen those renoumed noble Peres of Greece,
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Sonnet XLV
LEaue lady, in your glasse of christall clene,
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SOnnet XLVI
WHen my abodes prefixed time is spent,
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Sonnet XLVII
TRust not the treason of those smyling lookes,
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Sonnet XLVIII
INnocent paper whom too cruell hand,
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Sonnet XV
YE tradefull Merchants that with weary toyle,
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Sonnet XVI
ONe day as I vnwarily did gaze
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Sonnet XVII
THe glorious portraict of that Angels face,
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Sonnet XVIII
THe rolling wheele that runneth often round,
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Sonnet XX
IN vaine I seeke and sew to her for grace,
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Sonnet XXI
WAs it the worke of nature or of Art?
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Sonnet XXII
THis holy season fit to fast and pray,
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Sonnet XXIII
Penelope for her Vlisses sake,
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Sonnet XXIIII
WHen I behold that beauties wonderment,
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Sonnet XXIX
See how the stubborne damzell doth deprau
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Sonnet XXV
HOw long shall this lyke dying lyfe endure,
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Sonnet XXVI
SWeet is the Rose, but growes vpon a brere;
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Sonnet XXVII
FAire proud now tell me why should faire be proud;
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Sonnet XXVIII
THe laurell leafe, which you this day doe weare,
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Sonnet XXX
MY loue is lyke to yse, and I to fyre;
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Sonnet XXXI
Ah why hath nature to so hard a hart,
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Sonnet XXXII
The paynefull smith with force of feruent heat,
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Sonnet XXXIII
GReat wrong I doe, I can it not deny,
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Sonnet XXXIIII
Lyke as a ship that through the Ocean wyde,
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Sonnet XXXIX
SWeet smile, the daughter of the Queene of loue,
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Sonnet XXXV
MY hungry eyes through greedy couetize,
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Sonnet XXXVI
TEll me when shall these wearie woes haue end,
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Sonnet XXXVII
WHat guyle is this, that those her golden tresses,
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Sonnet XXXVIII
ARion, when through tempests cruel wracke,
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