Poem by Edmund Spenser

Amoretti 20. In vaine I seeke and sew to her for grace

In vaine I seeke and sew to her for grace,
And doe myne humbled hart before her poure,
The whiles her foot she in my necke doth place,
And tread my life downe in the lowly floure*.
And yet the lyon, that is lord of power,
And reigneth over every beast in field,
In his most pride disdeigneth to devoure
The silly lambe that to his might doth yield.
But she, more cruell and more salvage wylde
Than either lyon or the lyonesse,
Shames not to be with guiltlesse bloud defylde,
But taketh glory in her cruelnesse.
  Fayrer then fayrest! let none ever say
  That ye were blooded in a yeelded pray.

[* Floure, floor, ground] 

1. Amoretti 5. Then was the faire Dodonian tree far seene
2. Amoretti 77. Was it a dreame, or did I see it playne?
3. Amoretti 11. Dayly when I do seeke and sew for peace
4. Amoretti 41. Is it her nature, or is it her will
5. Amoretti 65. The doubt which ye misdeeme, fayre Love, is vaine

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