Collected poems of Sir Thomas Wyatt | ||
LXXX
[In dowtfull brest, whilst moderly pitie]
In dowtfull brest, whilst moderly pitieWith furyous famyn stondyth at debate,
Sayth thebrew moder: ‘O child vnhappye,
Retorne thi blowd where thou hadst milk of late.
Yeld me those lymmis that I made vnto the,
And entre there where thou wert generate;
For of on body agaynst all nature
To a nothr must I mak sepulture.’
Collected poems of Sir Thomas Wyatt | ||