Amoretti XXIII: Penelope for her Ulisses sake

Penelope for her Ulisses sake,

Deviz’d a Web her wooers to deceave:

In which the worke that she all day did make

The same at night she did again unreave:

Such subtile craft my Damzell doth conceave,

Th’ importune suit of my desire to shonne:

For all that I in many dayes doo weave,

In one short houre I find by her undonne.

So when I thinke to end that I begonne,

I must begin and never bring to end:

For with one looke she spils that long I sponne,

And with one word my whole years work doth rend.

Such labour like the Spyders web I fynd,

Whose fruitless worke is broken with least wynd.