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Edmund Spenser (Эдмунд Спенсер)


Amoretti 88. Lyke as the culver on the bared bough


Lyke as the culver* on the bared bough
Sits mourning for the absence of her mate,
And in her songs sends many a wishful vow
For his returne, that seemes to linger late,
So I alone, now left disconsolate,
Mourne to my selfe the absence of my Love;
And wandring here and there all desolate,
Seek with my playnts to match that mournful dove
Ne ioy of ought that under heaven doth hove**,
Can comfort me, but her owne ioyous sight,
Whose sweet aspect both God and man can move,
In her unspotted pleasauns to delight.
  Dark is my day, whyles her fayre light I mis,
  And dead my life that wants such lively blis.

[* Culver, dove.]
[** Hove, hover, exist.] 



Edmund Spenser's other poems:
  1. Amoretti 80. After so long a race as I have run
  2. Amoretti 67. Lyke as a huntsman, after weary chace
  3. Amoretti 14. Retourne agayne, my forces late dismayd
  4. Amoretti 75. One day I wrote her name upon the strand
  5. Amoretti 64. Comming to kisse her lyps


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