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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=374436" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>SOnnet LXXIII</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=374436" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">BEing my selfe captyued here in care,<br>My hart, whom none with seruile bands can tye:<br>but the fayre tresses of your golden hayre,<br>breaking his prison forth to you doth fly.<br>Lyke as a byrd that in ones hand doth spy<br>desired food, to it doth make his flight:<br>euen so my hart, that wont on your fayre eye<br>to feed his fill, flyes backe vnto your sight.<br>Doe you him take, and in your bosome bright,<br>gently encage, that he may be your thrall:<br>perhaps he there may learne with rare delight,<br>to sing your name and prayses ouer all.<br>That it hereafter may you not repent,<br>him lodging in your bosome to haue lent.</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>