My Love Is Like To Ice

My love is like to ice, and I to fire:
How comes it then that this her cold so great
Is not dissolved through my so hot desire,
But harder grows the more I her entreat?
Or how comes it that my exceeding heat
Is not allayed 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 things melts, should harden ice,
And ice, which is congeal's with senseless cold,
Should kindle fire by wonderful device?
Such is the power of love in gentle mind,
That it can alter all the course of kind.

Edmund Spenser

PoemHunter.com sent this poem to me in their daily email bulletin. Is Poetry Wednseday still going on? If it is then you should check out Creative Journey, which is the hub of it. I have not blogged for ages - forgive me but I literally am not getting the chance to sit down in front of the net these days.