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Poem by Edmund Spenser Amoretti 28. The laurel-leafe which you this day doe weare The laurel-leafe which you this day doe weare Gives me great hope of your relenting mynd: For since it is the badge which I doe beare*, Ye, bearing it, doe seeme to me inclind. The powre thereof, which ofte in me I find, Let it likewise your gentle brest inspire With sweet infusion, and put you in mind Of that proud mayd whom now those leaves attyre: Proud Daphne, scorning Phœbus lovely** fyre, On the Thessalian shore from him did flie; For which the gods, in theyr revengefull yre, Did her transforme into a laurell-tree. Then fly no more, fayre Love, from Phebus chace, But in your brest his leafe and love embrace. [* I. e. as poet-laureate.] [** Lovely, loving.] Edmund Spenser Edmund Spenser's other poems:
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