Amoretti: Sonnet 37 Edmund Spenser
On this page, discover the full lyrics of the song "Amoretti: Sonnet 37" by Edmund Spenser. Lyrxo.com offers the most comprehensive and accurate lyrics, helping you connect with the music you love on a deeper level. Ideal for dedicated fans and anyone who appreciates quality music.
What guyle is this, that those her golden tresses
She doth attyre under a net of gold:
and with sly skill so cunningly them dresses,
that which is gold or heare may scarse be told?
Is it that mens frayle eyes, which gaze too bold,
she may entangle in that golden snare:
and being caught may craftily enfold
theyr weaker harts, which are not wel aware?
Take heed therefore, myne eyes, how ye doe stare
henceforth too rashly on that guilefull net,
in which if ever ye entrapped are,
out of her bands ye by no meanes shall get.
Fondnesse it were for any being free,
to covet fetters, though they golden bee.
She doth attyre under a net of gold:
and with sly skill so cunningly them dresses,
that which is gold or heare may scarse be told?
Is it that mens frayle eyes, which gaze too bold,
she may entangle in that golden snare:
and being caught may craftily enfold
theyr weaker harts, which are not wel aware?
Take heed therefore, myne eyes, how ye doe stare
henceforth too rashly on that guilefull net,
in which if ever ye entrapped are,
out of her bands ye by no meanes shall get.
Fondnesse it were for any being free,
to covet fetters, though they golden bee.
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