AFter long stormes and tempests sad assay, <br />Which hardly I endured heretofore: <br />in dread of death and daungerous dismay, <br />with which my silly barke was tossed sore. <br />I doe at length descry the happy shore, <br />in which I hope ere long for to arryue, <br />fayre soyle it seemes from far & fraught with store <br />of all that deare and daynty is alyue. <br />Most happy he that can at last atchyue, <br />the ioyous safety of so sweet a rest: <br />whose least delight sufficeth to depriue, <br />remembrance of all paines which him opprest. <br />All paines are nothing in respect of this, <br />all sorrowes short that gaine eternall blisse.<br /><br />Edmund Spenser<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sonnet-lxiii-2/
