Edmund Spenser
Edmund Spenser
Edmund Spenserwas an English poet best known for The Faerie Queene, an epic poem and fantastical allegory celebrating the Tudor dynasty and Elizabeth I. He is recognized as one of the premier craftsmen of nascent Modern English verse, and is often considered one of the greatest poets in the English language...
NationalityEnglish
ProfessionPoet
beauty blood gentle
For all that faire is, is by nature good;That is a signe to know the gentle blood.
fall men righteous-man
How many perils doe enfold The righteous man to make him daily fall.
firsts vain temper
In vain he seeketh others to suppress, Who hath not learn'd himself first to subdue.
wise reflection blow
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.
nurse sin sluggish
Sluggish idleness--the nurse of sin.
spring cuckoos messengers
The merry cuckow, messenger of Spring, His trumpet shrill hath thrice already sounded.
beauty men shows
Beauty is not, as fond men misdeem, an outward show of things that only seem.
flower pride rose
So passeth, in the passing of a day, Of mortal life, the leaf, the bud, the flower; No more doth flourish after first decay, That erst was sought to deck both bed and bower Of many a lady and many a paramour. Gather therefore the rose whilst yet in prime, For soon comes age that will her pride deflower. Gather the rose of love whilst yet in time, Whilst loving thou mayst loved be with equal crime.
men vices virtue
For that which all men then did virtue call, Is now called vice; and that which vice was hight, Is now hight virtue, and so used of all: Right now is wrong, and wrong that was is right
eye common despise
I learned have, not to despise,What ever thing seemes small in common eyes.
men evening states
Man's wretched state, That floures so fresh at morne, and fades at evening late.
winter hands teeth
Lastly came Winter cloathed all in frize, Chattering his teeth for cold that did him chill; Whilst on his hoary beard his breath did freese, And the dull drops, that from his purpled bill As from a limebeck did adown distill: In his right hand a tipped staffe he held, With which his feeble steps he stayed still; For he was faint with cold, and weak with eld; That scarce his loosed limbes he hable was to weld.
good-day night long
Full little knowest thou that hast not tried, What hell it is in suing long to bide: To loose good dayes, that might be better spent; To waste long nights in pensive discontent; To speed to-day, to be put back to-morrow; To feed on hope, to pine with feare and sorrow.
lying countenance
I trow that countenance cannot lie,Whose thoughts are legible in the eie.