Sonnet LIII by Edmund Spenser

  THe Panther knowing that his spotted hyde,
Doth please all beasts but that his looks the[m] fray:
within a bush his dreadfull head doth hide,
to let them gaze whylest he on them may pray.
Right so my cruell fayre with me doth play,
for with the goodly semblant of her hew:
she doth allure me to mine owne decay,
and then no mercy will vnto me shew.
Great shame it is, thing so diuine in view,
made for to be the worlds most ornament:
to make the bayte her gazers to embrew,
good shames to be so ill an instrument.
But mercy doth with beautie best agree,
as in theyr maker ye them best may see.
 

To The Top Of The Page

Articles

This Site and those Below Are Brought to You By
 
Craypoe.com & Crepeau.US

ToolBagMag.com--Online Magazine

Christ AndCountry.net--Christian

LocalNJ.com--North NJ Scene

MyJobStinks.org-Job Search

Craypoe.com/bob-Bob's Site

RedneckBaron.net