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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=374447" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Sonnet LXXXV</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=374447" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">THe world that cannot deeme of worthy things,<br>when I doe praise her, say I doe but flatter:<br>so does the Cuckow, when the Mauis sings,<br>begin his witlesse note apace to clatter.<br>But they that skill not of so heauenly matter,<br>all that they know not, enuy or admyre,<br>rather then enuy let them wonder at her,<br>but not to deeme of her desert aspyre.<br>Deepe in the closet of my parts entyre,<br>her worth is written with a golden quill:<br>that me with heauenly fury doth inspire,<br>and my glad mouth with her sweet prayses fill.<br>Which when as fame in her shrill trump shal thunder<br>let the world chose to enuy or to wonder.</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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