English poetry

Poems in English


Sonnet LXIII

AFter long stormes and tempests sad assay,
Which hardly I endured heretofore:
In dread of death and daungerous dismay,
With which my silly barke was tossed sore.
I doe at length descry the happy shore,
In which I hope ere long for to arryue,
Fayre soyle it seemes from far & fraught with store
Of all that deare and daynty is alyue.
Most happy he that can at last atchyue,
The ioyous safety of so sweet a rest:
Whose least delight sufficeth to depriue,
Remembrance of all paines which him opprest.
All paines are nothing in respect of this,
All sorrowes short that gaine eternall blisse.


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Poem Sonnet LXIII - Edmund Spenser
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