Edmund Spenser ( 10 of 15 )
The merry cuckow, messenger of Spring,
His trumpet shrill hath thrice already sounded.
The merry cuckow, messenger of Spring,
His trumpet shrill hath thrice already sounded.
It is the mind that maketh good of ill, that maketh wretch or happy,
rich or poor.
It is the mind that maketh good of ill, that maketh wretch or happy,
rich or poor.
One day I wrote her name upon the strand,
But came the waves and washed it away;
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One day I wrote her name upon the strand,
But came the waves and washed it away;
Agayne I wrote it with a second hand,
But came the tyde and made my paynes his prey.
O happy earth,
Whereon thy innocent feet doe ever tread!
O happy earth,
Whereon thy innocent feet doe ever tread!
And with unwearied fingers drawing out
The lines of life, from living knowledge hid.
And with unwearied fingers drawing out
The lines of life, from living knowledge hid.
Entire affection hateth nicer hands.
Entire affection hateth nicer hands.
And thus of all my harvest-hope I have
Nought reaped but a weedye crop of care.
And thus of all my harvest-hope I have
Nought reaped but a weedye crop of care.
Who will not mercie unto others show,
How can he mercie ever hope to have?
Who will not mercie unto others show,
How can he mercie ever hope to have?
For take thy ballaunce if thou be so wise,
And weigh the winds that under heaven doth blow;
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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.
There grewe an aged tree on the greene;
A goodly Oake sometime had it bene,
With armes read more
There grewe an aged tree on the greene;
A goodly Oake sometime had it bene,
With armes full strong and largely displayed,
But of their leaves they were disarayde
The bodie bigge, and mightely pight,
Thoroughly rooted, and of wond'rous hight;
Whilome had bene the king of the field,
And mochell mast to the husband did yielde,
And with his nuts larded many swine:
But now the gray mosse marred his rine;
His bared boughes were beaten with stormes,
His toppe was bald, and wasted with wormes,
His honour decayed, his brauches sere.
