Collected poems of Sir Thomas Wyatt Edited by Kenneth Muir and Patricia Thomson |
![]() |
![]() | I. |
![]() | II. |
![]() | III. |
![]() | IV. |
![]() | V. |
CLXXVIII. |
CLXXIX. |
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. |
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. |
![]() | VII. |
![]() | VIII. |
![]() | IX. |
![]() | Collected poems of Sir Thomas Wyatt | ![]() |
XXXVII
[They fle from me that sometyme did me seke]
They fle from me that sometyme did me seke
With naked fote stalking in my chambre.
I have sene theim gentill tame and meke
That nowe are wyld and do not remembre
That sometyme they put theimself in daunger
To take bred at my hand; and nowe they raunge
Besely seking with a continuell chaunge.
With naked fote stalking in my chambre.
I have sene theim gentill tame and meke
That nowe are wyld and do not remembre
That sometyme they put theimself in daunger
To take bred at my hand; and nowe they raunge
Besely seking with a continuell chaunge.
Thancked be fortune, it hath ben othrewise
Twenty tymes better; but ons in speciall
In thyn arraye after a pleasaunt gyse
When her lose gowne from her shoulders did fall,
And she me caught in her armes long and small;
Therewithall swetely did me kysse,
And softely said ‘dere hert, how like you this?’
Twenty tymes better; but ons in speciall
In thyn arraye after a pleasaunt gyse
When her lose gowne from her shoulders did fall,
And she me caught in her armes long and small;
Therewithall swetely did me kysse,
And softely said ‘dere hert, how like you this?’
It was no dreme: I lay brode waking.
But all is torned thorough my gentilnes
Into a straunge fasshion of forsaking;
And I have leve to goo of her goodeness,
And she also to vse new fangilnes.
But syns that I so kyndely ame serued,
I would fain knowe what she hath deserued.
But all is torned thorough my gentilnes
Into a straunge fasshion of forsaking;
And I have leve to goo of her goodeness,
And she also to vse new fangilnes.
But syns that I so kyndely ame serued,
I would fain knowe what she hath deserued.
![]() | Collected poems of Sir Thomas Wyatt | ![]() |