Collected poems of Sir Thomas Wyatt Edited by Kenneth Muir and Patricia Thomson |
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 | Collected poems of Sir Thomas Wyatt |  |
CLXXXVII
[The restfull place, Revyver of my smarte]
The restfull place, Revyver of my smarte,
The labors salve incressyng my sorow,
The body ese and trobler off my hart,
Quieter of mynd and my vnquiet foo,
Fforgetter of payn, Remembrer of my woo,
The place of slepe wherein I do but wake
Besprent with teres my bed I the forsake.
The labors salve incressyng my sorow,
The body ese and trobler off my hart,
Quieter of mynd and my vnquiet foo,
Fforgetter of payn, Remembrer of my woo,
The place of slepe wherein I do but wake
Besprent with teres my bed I the forsake.
The frost, the snow, may not redresse my hete
Nor yet no heate abate my fervent cold.
I know nothyng to ese my paynes mete,
Eche cure cawsythe increse by twenty fold;
Revyvyng carys vpon my sorows old.
Suche overthwart affectes they do me make
Bysprent with terys my bed for to forsake.
Nor yet no heate abate my fervent cold.
I know nothyng to ese my paynes mete,
Eche cure cawsythe increse by twenty fold;
Revyvyng carys vpon my sorows old.
Suche overthwart affectes they do me make
Bysprent with terys my bed for to forsake.
198
Yet helpythe yt not I fynd no better ese
In bed or owt thys moste cawsythe my payn,
Where most I seke how beste that I may plese,
My lost labor, Alas, ys all in vayn;
Yet that I gave I cannot call agayn;
No place fro me my greffe away can take,
Wherfor with terys my bed I the forsake.
In bed or owt thys moste cawsythe my payn,
Where most I seke how beste that I may plese,
My lost labor, Alas, ys all in vayn;
Yet that I gave I cannot call agayn;
No place fro me my greffe away can take,
Wherfor with terys my bed I the forsake.
| Collected poems of Sir Thomas Wyatt | |