Whoso List to hunt by Sir Thomas Wyatt and Sonnets 30 and 75 by Edmund Spenser. 10 points!!!!?

Question

In whoso list to hunt by Sir Thomas Wyatt and sonnets 30 and 75 by Edmund Spenser .....

what would whoso list to hunt and sonnets 30 or 75 be like if the conflict that is the poems subject didnt exist? would there still be a poem? If so, what would the message be?

If possible give 2 references from poems....

http://www.nellgavin.com/ThomasWyatt/

http://nfs.sparknotes.com/sonnets/sonnet_30.epl

p.s. its not homework its summer..... im doing practice work

Answer 1

Now the second link that you have goven is for the sonnets of Shakespeare and not Edmund Spenser ! What would you have us do ?

"Whoso List To Hunt"

by --  Sir Thomas Wyatt

Whoso list to hunt, I know where is an hind,

But as for me, hélas, I may no more.

The vain travail hath wearied me so sore,

I am of them that farthest cometh behind.

Yet may I by no means my wearied mind

Draw from the deer, but as she fleeth afore

Fainting I follow. I leave off therefore,

Sithens in a net I seek to hold the wind.

Who list her hunt, I put him out of doubt,

As well as I may spend his time in vain.

And graven with diamonds in letters plain

There is written, her fair neck round about:

Noli me tangere, for Caesar's I am,

And wild for to hold, though I seem tame.

Sonnet 30

  When to the sessions of sweet silent thought

  I summon up remembrance of things past,

  I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought,

  And with old woes new wail my dear time's waste.

  Then can I drown an eye unused to flow,

  For precious friends hid in death's dateless night,

  And weep afresh love's long since cancelled woe,

  And moan th' expense of many a vanished sight.

  Then can I grieve at grievances foregone,

  And heavily from woe to woe tell o'er

  The sad account of fore-bemoanèd moan,

  Which I new pay as if not paid before.

                  But if the while I think on thee, dear friend,

                  All losses are restored, and sorrows end.

Sonnet 75

  So are you to my thoughts as food to life,

  Or as sweet seasoned show'rs are to the ground;

  And for the peace of you I hold such strife

  As 'twixt a miser and his wealth is found;

  Now proud as an enjoyer, and anon

  Doubting the filching age will steal his treasure;

  Now counting best to be with you alone,

  Then bettered that the world may see my pleasure;

  Sometime all full with feasting on your sight

  And by and by clean starvèd for a look;

  Possessing or pursuing no delight,

  Save what is had or must from you be took.

                  Thus do I pine and surfeit day by day,

                  Or gluttoning on all, or all away.         -  W. Shakespeare.