Ice And Fire

My love is like to ice, and I to fire:
How comes it then that this her cold so great
Is not dissolved through my so hot desire,
But harder grows the more I her entreat?
Or how comes it that my exceeding heat
Is not allayed by her heart-frozen cold,
But that I burn much more in boiling sweat,
And feel my flames augmented manifold?
What more miraculous thing may be told,
That fire, which all things melts, should harden ice,
And ice, which is congeal'd with senseless cold,
Should kindle fire by wonderful device?
Such is the power of love in gentle mind,
That it can alter all the course of kind.

by Edmund Spenser

Comments (6)

Reading this poem I thought of my own Five. A.M. Poem. A serene time of morning our thoughts can be reflective of many life's unanswered questions or we could be at peace sensing the peace and harmony of that moment.
you have got the word in there Alan: 'space'.
Great expansive imagery!
......at five a.m. some very entertaining and wonderfully strange with vividly imaginative and sometimes disturbing thoughts can come into anyone's mind....but even more thought provoking is just where do thoughts come from....does anyone know....how does the mind create these thoughts faster than the speed of light...
A catalog of images stretching far beyond conventional limits. Excellent!
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