Forget not yet the tried intent Of such a truth as I have meant; My great travail so gladly spent, Forget not yet!
Thomas Wyatt
The fructe of all the servise that I serveDispaire doth repe, such haples hap have I ; But tho he have no powre to make me swarve, Yet by the fire for colde I fele I dye : In paradis for hunger still I sterve : And in the flowde for thurste to deth I drye ; So Tantalus ane I and yn worse payne, Amyds my helpe, and helples doth remayne.
poetry
I find no peace, and all my war is done,I fear and hope; I burn and freeze like ice; I fly above the wind yet can I not arise; And naught I have and all the world I seize on. That looseth nor locketh holdeth me in prison, And holdeth me not, yet can I scape nowise; Nor letteth me live nor die at my devise, And yet of death it giveth none occasion. Without eyen I see, and without tongue I plain; I desire to perish, and yet I ask health; I love another, and thus I hate myself; I feed me in sorrow, and laugh in all my pain. Likewise displeaseth me both death and lifeAnd my delight is causer of this strife.
dark poems
truth
Behold love, thy power how she despiseth: My great pain, how little she regardeth The holy oath, whereof she taketh no cure Broken she hath : and yet she bideth sure Right at her ease, and little she dreadeth.
rights pain power
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