Collected poems of Sir Thomas Wyatt | ||
CCVIII
[Yf with complaint the paine might be exprest]
Yf with complaint the paine might be exprest
That inwardelye dothe cause me sigh and grone,
Your harde herte and your cruell brest
Shulde sighe and playne for my vnreste;
And tho yt ware of stone
Yet shulde Remorse cause yt relent and mone.
That inwardelye dothe cause me sigh and grone,
Your harde herte and your cruell brest
Shulde sighe and playne for my vnreste;
And tho yt ware of stone
Yet shulde Remorse cause yt relent and mone.
But sins yt ys so farre out of mesure
That with my wordes I can yt not contayne,
My ouerlye truste, my hertes tresure,
Alas, whye doo I still indure
This restles smerte and payne,
Sins yf ye list ye maye my woo restraine?
That with my wordes I can yt not contayne,
My ouerlye truste, my hertes tresure,
Alas, whye doo I still indure
This restles smerte and payne,
Sins yf ye list ye maye my woo restraine?
Collected poems of Sir Thomas Wyatt | ||