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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=374374" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Poem 13</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=374374" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Behold whiles she before the altar stands<br>Hearing the holy priest that to her speakes<br>And blesseth her with his two happy hands,<br>How the red roses flush vp in her cheekes,<br>And the pure snow with goodly vermill stayne,<br>Like crimsin dyde in grayne,<br>That euen th'Angels which continually,<br>About the sacred Altare doe remaine,<br>Forget their seruice and about her fly,<br>Ofte peeping in her face that seemes more fayre,<br>The more they on it stare.<br>But her sad eyes still fastened on the ground,<br>Are gouerned with goodly modesty,<br>That suffers not one looke to glaunce awry,<br>Which may let in a little thought vnsownd,<br>Why blush ye loue to giue to me your hand,<br>The pledge of all our band,<br>Sing ye sweet Angels Alleluya sing,<br>That all the woods may answere and your eccho ring.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Edmund+Spenser">Edmund Spenser</a></strong></div>

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