Poem by Edmund Spenser

Amoretti 55. So oft as I her beauty doe behold

So oft as I her beauty doe behold,
And therewith doe her cruelty compare,
I marvaile of what substance was the mould
The which her made attonce so cruell faire.
Not earth; for her high thoughts more heavenly are:
Not water; for her love doth burne like fyre:
Not ayre; for she is not so light or rare;
Not fyre; for she doth friese with faint desire.
Then needs another element inquire,
Whereof she mote be made; that is, the skye.
For to the heaven her haughty looks aspire,
And eke her love is pure immortall hye.
  Then sith to heaven ye lykened are the best,
  Be lyke in mercy as in all the rest.

1. Amoretti 49. Fayre Cruell! why are ye so fierce and cruell?
2. Amoretti 32. The paynefull smith with force of fervent heat
3. Amoretti 46. When my abodes prefixed time is spent
4. Amoretti 59. Thrise happie she that is so well assured
5. Amoretti 26. Sweet is the rose, but growes upon a brere

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