Collected poems of Sir Thomas Wyatt Edited by Kenneth Muir and Patricia Thomson |
| 21 |  |
| 13 |  | I. |
| II. |
| 4 | | III. |
| IV. |
| CIX. |
| CX. |
| CXI. |
| CXII. |
| CXIII. |
| CXIV. |
| CXV. |
| CXVI. |
| CXVII. |
| CXVIII. |
| CXIX. |
| CXX. |
| CXXI. |
| CXXII. |
| CXXIII. |
| CXXIV. |
| CXXV. |
| CXXVI. |
| CXXVII. |
| CXXVIII. |
| CXXIX. |
| CXXX. |
| CXXXI. |
| CXXXII. |
| CXXXIII. |
| CXXXIV. |
| CXXXV. |
| CXXXVI. |
| CXXXVII. |
| CXXXVIII. |
| CXXXIX. |
| CXL. |
| CXLI. |
| CXLII. |
| CXLIII. |
| CXLIV. |
| CXLV. |
| CXLVI. |
| CXLVII. |
| CXLVIII. |
| CXLIX. |
| CL. |
| CLI. |
| CLII. |
| CLIII. |
| CLIV. | CLIV
|
| CLV. |
| CLVI. |
| CLVII. |
| CLVIII. |
| CLIX. |
| CLX. |
| CLXI. |
| CLXII. |
| CLXIII. |
| CLXIV. |
| CLXV. |
| CLXVI. |
| CLXVII. |
| CLXVIII. |
| CLXIX. |
| CLXX. |
| CLXXI. |
| CLXXII. |
| CLXXIII. |
| CLXXIV. |
| CLXXV. |
| CLXXVI. |
| CLXXVII. |
| 2 | | V. |
| VI. |
| 2 | | VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
 | Collected poems of Sir Thomas Wyatt |  |
CLIV
[My swet, alas, fforget me not]
My swet, alas, fforget me not,
That am your owne ffull suer posseste;
And ffor my part, as well ye woot,
I cannot swarue ffrome my behest;
Sens that my lyffe lyethe in your lott,
At this my pore and just request,
Fforget me not.
That am your owne ffull suer posseste;
And ffor my part, as well ye woot,
I cannot swarue ffrome my behest;
Sens that my lyffe lyethe in your lott,
At this my pore and just request,
Fforget me not.
Yet wott how suer that I am tryed,
My menyng clene, devoyde of blott;
Yours ys the proffe; ye haue me tryed,
And in me, swet, ye ffound no spott;
Of all my welthe and helth is the gyd,
That of my lyff doth knyt the knot,
Fforget me not.
My menyng clene, devoyde of blott;
166
And in me, swet, ye ffound no spott;
Of all my welthe and helth is the gyd,
That of my lyff doth knyt the knot,
Fforget me not.
Ffor yours I am and wilbe styll,
Although dalye ye se me not;
Sek ffor to saue, that ye may spyll,
Syns of my lyffe ye hold the shott;
Then grant me this ffor my goodwyll,
Which ys but Ryght, as god yt wot,
Fforget me not.
Although dalye ye se me not;
Sek ffor to saue, that ye may spyll,
Syns of my lyffe ye hold the shott;
Then grant me this ffor my goodwyll,
Which ys but Ryght, as god yt wot,
Fforget me not.
Consyder how I am your thrall,
To serue you bothe in cold and hott;
My ffawtes ffor thinking nought at all;
In prysone strong tho I shuld Rott,
Then in your earys let petye ffall,
And leste I peryshe, in your lott
Fforget me not.
To serue you bothe in cold and hott;
My ffawtes ffor thinking nought at all;
In prysone strong tho I shuld Rott,
Then in your earys let petye ffall,
And leste I peryshe, in your lott
Fforget me not.
| Collected poems of Sir Thomas Wyatt | |