Poem A Day

Sonnet 30 (Fire And Ice)

by Edmund Spenser

My love is like to ice, and I to fire:

how comes it then that this her cold so great

is not dissolv'd through my so hot desire,

but harder grows, the more I her entreat?

Or how comes it that my exceeding heat

is not delayed 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 thing melts, should harden ice:

and ice which is congealed with senseless cold,

should kindle fire by wonderful device?

Such is the pow'r of love in gentle mind

that it can alter all the course of kind.

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