The poetical works of Sir Thomas Wyatt

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Page 111 - And wilt thou leave me thus, That hath given thee my heart Never for to depart Neither for pain nor smart : And wilt thou leave me thus ? Say nay ! say nay...
Page 32 - They flee from me, that sometime did me seek With naked foot, stalking in my chamber. I have seen them gentle, tame, and meek That now are wild, and do not remember That sometime they...
Page 10 - Tween rock and rock; and eke my foe, alas, That is my lord, steereth with cruelness; And every hour, a thought in readiness, As though that death were light in such a case; An endless wind doth tear the sail apace Of forced sighs, and trusty fearfulness; A rain of tears, a cloud of dark disdain...
Page ix - 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, Since 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,1 for Caesar's I am, And wild for to hold, though I seem tame.
Page 18 - LOVE. FAREWELL, Love, and all thy laws for ever ; Thy baited hooks shall tangle me no more : Senec, and Plato, call me from thy lore, To perfect wealth, my wit for to endeavor.
Page 98 - BLAME not my Lute ! for he must sound Of this or that as liketh me ; For lack of wit the Lute is bound To give such tunes as pleaseth me ; Though my songs be somewhat strange, And speak such words as touch thy change, Blame not my Lute...
Page 189 - And blinds the guide, anon out of the way Goeth guide and all in seeking quiet life. O wretched minds, there is no gold that may Grant that you seek; no war, no peace, no strife.
Page 109 - Within one heart so diverse mind, To change or turn as weather and wind? Is it possible? Is it possible To spy it in an eye That turns as oft as chance on die? The truth whereof can any try? Is it possible?
Page 29 - MY lute, awake ! perform the last Labour that thou and I shall waste, And end that I have now begun; For when this song is sung and past, My lute, be still, for I have done.
Page 84 - PATIENCE ! though I have not The thing that I require; I must, of force, God wot, Forbear my most desire, For no ways can I find To sail against the wind. Patience ! do what they will To work me woe or spite; I shall content me still To think both day and night; To think, and hold my peace, Since there is no redress.

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