Poem by Edmund Spenser

Amoretti 65. The doubt which ye misdeeme, fayre Love, is vaine

The doubt which ye misdeeme, fayre Love, is vaine,
That fondly feare to lose your liberty,
When, losing one, two liberties ye gayne,
And make him bond that bondage earst did fly.
Sweet be the bands the which true love doth tye,
Without constraynt or dread of any ill:
The gentle birde feeles no captivity
Within her cage, but sings, and feeds her fill.
There pride dare not approch, nor discord spill
The league twixt them that loyal love hath bound,
But simple Truth and mutual Good-will
Seeks with sweet peace to salve each others wound:
  There Fayth doth fearless dwell in brasen towre,
  And spotlesse Pleasure builds her sacred bowre. 

1. Amoretti 77. Was it a dreame, or did I see it playne?
2. Amoretti 11. Dayly when I do seeke and sew for peace
3. Amoretti 28. The laurel-leafe which you this day doe weare
4. Amoretti 41. Is it her nature, or is it her will
5. Amoretti 34. Lyke as a ship, that through the ocean wyde

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