Finest Poems

Largest collection of poems on the internet

Main Menu
Home
Poetry
Search
Contact Us
Web Links
Last comments
If There's...
8)
More...

What I Love About You
WOW COLL POEM :roll
More...

The Meaning
Thnaks
More...

Euthanasia
LOVED IT!!! I Don't Have An Opinion For Such A Matter, But T...
More...

Coming Home...
That is a wonderful poem!!!
More...

Most favoured
Home arrow Poetry arrow Edmund Spenser arrow Poem 8
Poem 8 PDF Print E-mail
Written by Edmund Spenser   
HArke how the Minstrels gin to shrill aloud,
Their merry Musick that resounds from far,
The pipe, the tabor, and the trembling Croud,
That well agree withouten breach or iar.
But most of all the Damzels doe delite,
When they their tymbrels smyte,
And thereunto doe daunce and carrol sweet,
That all the sences they doe rauish quite,
The whyles the boyes run vp and downe the street,
Crying aloud with strong confused noyce,
As if it were one voyce.
Hymen io Hymen, Hymen they do shout,
That euen to the heauens theyr shouting shrill
Doth reach, and all the firmament doth fill,
To which the people standing all about,
As in approuance doe thereto applaud
And loud aduance her laud,
And euermore they Hymen Hymen sing,
that al the woods them answer and theyr eccho ring.



Add as favourites (23)

Be first to comment this poem

Only registered users can write comments.
Please login or register.

 
< Prev   Next >