Edmund Spenser

There grewe an aged tree on the greene;
A goodly Oake sometime had it bene,
With armes read more

There grewe an aged tree on the greene;
A goodly Oake sometime had it bene,
With armes full strong and largely displayed,
But of their leaves they were disarayde
The bodie bigge, and mightely pight,
Thoroughly rooted, and of wond'rous hight;
Whilome had bene the king of the field,
And mochell mast to the husband did yielde,
And with his nuts larded many swine:
But now the gray mosse marred his rine;
His bared boughes were beaten with stormes,
His toppe was bald, and wasted with wormes,
His honour decayed, his brauches sere.

One day I wrote her name upon the strand,
But came the waves and washed it away;
read more

One day I wrote her name upon the strand,
But came the waves and washed it away;
Agayne I wrote it with a second hand,
But came the tyde and made my paynes his prey.

Although the last, not least.

Although the last, not least.

And on his brest a bloodie crosse he bore,
The deare remembrance of his dying Lord,
For read more

And on his brest a bloodie crosse he bore,
The deare remembrance of his dying Lord,
For whose sweete sake that glorious badge he wore.

Virtue may be cheerful without forgetting its dignity.

Virtue may be cheerful without forgetting its dignity.