Poem by Edmund Spenser

Amoretti 81. Fayre is my Love, when her fayre golden haires

Fayre is my Love, when her fayre golden haires
With the loose wynd ye waving chance to marke;
Fayre, when the rose in her red cheekes appeares,
Or in her eyes the fyre of love does sparke;
Fayre, when her brest, lyke a rich laden barke,
With pretious merchandize she forth doth lay;
Fayre, when that cloud of pryde, which oft doth dark
Her goodly light, with smiles she drives away.
But fayrest she, when so she doth display
The gate with pearles and rubyes richly dight,
Throgh which her words so wise do make their way,
To beare the message of her gentle spright.
  The rest be works of Natures wonderment;
  But this the worke of harts astonishment. 

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

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