Collected poems of Sir Thomas Wyatt Edited by Kenneth Muir and Patricia Thomson |
| 21 |  |
| 13 |  | I. |
| II. |
| 4 | | III. |
| IV. |
| 2 | | V. |
| CLXXVIII. |
| CLXXIX. |
| 1 | CLXXX. |
| CLXXXI. |
| CLXXXII. |
| CLXXXIII. |
| CLXXXIV. |
| CLXXXV. |
| CLXXXVI. |
| CLXXXVII. |
| CLXXXVIII. |
| CLXXXIX. |
| CXC. |
| CXCI. |
| CXCII. |
| CXCIII. |
| CXCIV. |
| CXCV. |
| CXCVI. |
| CXCVII. |
| CXCVIII. |
| CXCIX. |
| CC. |
| CCI. |
| CCII. |
| CCIII. |
| CCIV. |
| CCV. |
| CCVI. |
| CCVII. |
| CCVIII. |
| 1 | CCIX. | CCIX
|
| CCX. |
| CCXI. |
| CCXII. |
| CCXIII. |
| CCXIV. |
| CCXV. |
| CCXVI. |
| CCXVII. |
| CCXVIII. |
| CCXIX. |
| CCXX. |
| CCXXI. |
| CCXXII. |
| CCXXIII. |
| CCXXIV. |
| CCXXV. |
| CCXXVI. |
| CCXXVII. |
| CCXXVIII. |
| CCXXIX. |
| CCXXX. |
| CCXXXI. |
| CCXXXII. |
| CCXXXIII. |
| VI. |
| 2 | | VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
 | Collected poems of Sir Thomas Wyatt |  |
215
CCIX
[Sins you will nedes that I shall sing]
Sins you will nedes that I shall sing,
Take yt in worth siche as I have,
Plentye of
plaint 
, mone and morning,
Yn depe dispaire and dedlye payne,
Boteles for bote, crying to crave,
To crave yn vayne.
Take yt in worth siche as I have,
Plentye of
plaint , mone and morning,
Yn depe dispaire and dedlye payne,
Boteles for bote, crying to crave,
To crave yn vayne.
Such hammers worke within my hed
That sounde nought els vnto my eris
But faste at borde and wake abed:
Suche tune the tempre to my song
To waile my wrong, that I wante teris
To waile my wrong.
That sounde nought els vnto my eris
But faste at borde and wake abed:
Suche tune the tempre to my song
To waile my wrong, that I wante teris
To waile my wrong.
Dethe and dispaire afore my face,
My dayes dekaes, my grefe doth gro;
The cause thereof is in this place,
Whom crueltye dothe still constraine
For to reioise, tho yt be wo
To here me plaine.
My dayes dekaes, my grefe doth gro;
The cause thereof is in this place,
Whom crueltye dothe still constraine
For to reioise, tho yt be wo
To here me plaine.
A brokin lute, vntunid stringes
With such a song maye well bere parte,
That nether pleasith him that singes
Nor theim that here, but her alone
That with her herte wold straine my herte
To here yt grone.
With such a song maye well bere parte,
That nether pleasith him that singes
Nor theim that here, but her alone
That with her herte wold straine my herte
To here yt grone.
Yf it greve you to here this same
That you do fele but in my voyse,
Considre then what plesaunt game
I do sustaine in everye parte
To cause me sing or to reioyse
Within my herte.
That you do fele but in my voyse,
Considre then what plesaunt game
I do sustaine in everye parte
To cause me sing or to reioyse
Within my herte.
| Collected poems of Sir Thomas Wyatt | |