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 10. Unrighteous Lord of love, what law is this
2. Amoretti 61. The glorious image of the Makers beautie
3. Amoretti 24. When I behold that beauties wonderment
4. Amoretti 80. After so long a race as I have run
5. Amoretti 52. So oft as homeward I from her depart

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