Collected poems of Sir Thomas Wyatt :: :: University of Virginia Library

I see that chance hath chosen me
That secretely to liue in paine;
And to an other geuen the fee
Of all my losse, to haue the gayn.
By chance assinde, thus do I serue:
And other haue, that I deserue.

Vnto my self sometime alone
I do lament my wofull case.
But what auaileth me to mone?
Since troth and pitie hath no place
In them, to whom I sue and serue:
And other haue, that I deserue.

To seke by meane to change this minde,
Alas, I proue it will not be;
For in my hart I cannot finde

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Once to refrain, but still agree
As bounde by force, alway to serue:
And other haue, that I deserue.

Such is the fortune that I haue,
To loue them most that loue me lest;
And to my pain to seke and craue
The thing that other haue possest.
So thus in vain alway I serue:
And other haue, that I deserue.

And till I may apease the heate,
If that my happe will happe so well,
To waile my wo my hart shall freate,
Whose pensif pain my tong can tell.
Yet thus vnhappy must I serue:
And other haue, that I deserue.