Collected poems of Sir Thomas Wyatt Edited by Kenneth Muir and Patricia Thomson |
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13 | I. |
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II. |
III. |
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1 | V. |
VI. |
VII. |
VIII. |
IX. |
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XII. |
XIII. |
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XVI. |
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XXI. |
XXII. |
XXIII. |
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XXVIII. |
XXIX. |
XXX. |
XXXI. |
XXXII. |
XXXIII. |
XXXIV. |
XXXV. |
XXXVI. |
XXXVII. |
XXXVIII. |
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XLI. |
1 | XLII. |
XLIII. |
XLIV. |
XLV. |
XLVI. |
XLVII. |
XLVIII. |
XLIX. |
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LI. |
LII. |
1 | LIII. |
1 | LIV. |
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LVI. |
LVII. |
LVIII. |
LIX. |
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LXI. |
1 | LXII. |
LXIII. |
LXIV. |
LXV. |
LXVI. |
LXVII. |
LXVIII. |
LXIX. |
LXX. |
LXXI. |
LXXII. |
2 | LXXIII. |
LXXIV. |
LXXV. |
LXXVI. |
LXXVII. |
LXXVIII. |
LXXIX. |
LXXX. |
LXXXI. |
1 | LXXXII. |
LXXXIII. |
LXXXIV. |
LXXXV. |
LXXXVI. |
LXXXVII. |
LXXXVIII. |
LXXXIX. |
XC. |
XCI. |
XCII. |
XCIII. |
XCIV. |
XCV. |
XCVI. |
XCVII. |
3 | XCVIII. |
XCIX. |
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1 | CI. |
CII. |
CIII. |
CIV. |
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4 | III. |
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2 | V. |
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2 | VII. |
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IX. |
Collected poems of Sir Thomas Wyatt | ||
CLXXXIII
[What menythe thys when I lye alone?]
What menythe thys when I lye alone?
I tosse, I turne, I syghe, I grone,
My bedd me semys as hard as stone:
What menys thys?
I tosse, I turne, I syghe, I grone,
My bedd me semys as hard as stone:
What menys thys?
194
I syghe, I playne contynually;
The clothes that on my bedd do ly
Always methynk they lye awry:
What menys thys?
The clothes that on my bedd do ly
Always methynk they lye awry:
What menys thys?
In slumbers oft for fere I quake;
Ffor hete and cold I burne and shake;
Ffor lake of slepe my hede dothe ake;
What menys thys?
Ffor hete and cold I burne and shake;
Ffor lake of slepe my hede dothe ake;
What menys thys?
A mornynges then when I do rysse
I torne vnto my wontyd gysse;
All day after muse and devysse:
What menys thys?
I torne vnto my wontyd gysse;
All day after muse and devysse:
What menys thys?
And yff perchanse by me there passe
She vnto whome I sue for grace,
The cold blood forsakythe my face:
What menythe thys?
She vnto whome I sue for grace,
The cold blood forsakythe my face:
What menythe thys?
But yff I sytte nere her by,
With lowd voyce my hart dothe cry,
And yet my mowthe ys dome and dry:
What menys thys?
With lowd voyce my hart dothe cry,
And yet my mowthe ys dome and dry:
What menys thys?
To aske ffor helpe no hart I have
My tong dothe fayle what I shuld crave,
Yet inwardly I Rage and Rave:
What menys thys?
My tong dothe fayle what I shuld crave,
Yet inwardly I Rage and Rave:
What menys thys?
Thus have I passyd many a yere,
And many a day, tho nowght Apere;
But most of that that most I fere:
What menys thys?
And many a day, tho nowght Apere;
But most of that that most I fere:
What menys thys?
Collected poems of Sir Thomas Wyatt | ||