Poem by Edmund Spenser

Amoretti 22. THis holy season, fit to fast and pray

This holy season*, fit to fast and pray,
Men to devotion ought to be inclynd:
Therefore, I lykewise, on so holy day,
For my sweet saynt some service fit will find.
Her temple fayre is built within my mind,
In which her glorious ymage placed is;
On which my thoughts doo day and night attend,
Lyke sacred priests that never thinke amisse.
There I to her, as th’author of my blisse,
Will builde an altar to appease her yre;
And on the same my hart will sacrifise,
Burning in flames of pure and chaste desyre:
  The which vouchsafe, O Goddesse, to accept,
  Amongst thy deerest relicks to be kept.

[* I.e. Easter] 

1. Amoretti 46. When my abodes prefixed time is spent
2. Amoretti 43. Shall I then silent be, or shall I speake?
3. Amoretti 59. Thrise happie she that is so well assured
4. Amoretti 32. The paynefull smith with force of fervent heat
5. Amoretti 63. After long stormes and tempests sad assay

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