Collected poems of Sir Thomas Wyatt Edited by Kenneth Muir and Patricia Thomson |
| 21 |  |
| 13 | | I. |
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| 1 | V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
| XI. |
| XII. |
| XIII. |
| XIV. |
| XV. |
| XVI. |
| XVII. |
| XVIII. |
| XIX. |
| 1 | XX. |
| XXI. |
| XXII. |
| XXIII. |
| XXIV. |
| XXV. |
| XXVI. |
| XXVII. |
| XXVIII. |
| XXIX. |
| XXX. |
| XXXI. |
| XXXII. |
| XXXIII. |
| XXXIV. |
| XXXV. |
| XXXVI. |
| XXXVII. |
| XXXVIII. |
| XXXIX. |
| XL. |
| XLI. |
| 1 | XLII. |
| XLIII. |
| XLIV. |
| XLV. |
| XLVI. |
| XLVII. |
| XLVIII. |
| XLIX. |
| L. |
| LI. |
| LII. |
| 1 | LIII. |
| 1 | LIV. |
| LV. |
| LVI. |
| LVII. |
| LVIII. |
| LIX. |
| LX. |
| LXI. |
| 1 | LXII. |
| LXIII. |
| LXIV. |
| LXV. |
| LXVI. |
| LXVII. |
| LXVIII. |
| LXIX. |
| LXX. |
| LXXI. |
| LXXII. |
| 2 | LXXIII. |
| LXXIV. |
| LXXV. |
| LXXVI. |
| LXXVII. |
| LXXVIII. |
| LXXIX. |
| LXXX. |
| LXXXI. |
| 1 | LXXXII. |
| LXXXIII. |
| LXXXIV. |
| LXXXV. |
| LXXXVI. | LXXXVI
|
| LXXXVII. |
| LXXXVIII. |
| LXXXIX. |
| XC. |
| XCI. |
| XCII. |
| XCIII. |
| XCIV. |
| XCV. |
| XCVI. |
| XCVII. |
| 3 | XCVIII. |
| XCIX. |
| C. |
| 1 | CI. |
| CII. |
| CIII. |
| CIV. |
 | II. |
| 4 | | III. |
| IV. |
| 2 | | V. |
| VI. |
| 2 | | VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
 | Collected poems of Sir Thomas Wyatt |  |
LXXXVI
[O goodely hand]
O goodely hand,
Wherin doeth stand
My hert distrast in payne,
Faire hand, Alas,
In litle spas
My liff that doeth restrayne.
Wherin doeth stand
My hert distrast in payne,
Faire hand, Alas,
In litle spas
My liff that doeth restrayne.
O fyngers slight,
Departed right,
So long, so small, so rownd,
Goodely bygone,
And yet alone
Most cruell in my wound.
Departed right,
So long, so small, so rownd,
Goodely bygone,
And yet alone
Most cruell in my wound.
With Lilis whight
And Roses bright
Doth stryve thy colour faire;
Nature did lend
Eche fyngers ende
A perle for to repayre.
And Roses bright
Doth stryve thy colour faire;
Nature did lend
Eche fyngers ende
A perle for to repayre.
Consent at last,
Syns that thou hast
My hert in thy demayne,
For seruice trew
On me to rew,
And reche me love againe.
Syns that thou hast
My hert in thy demayne,
For seruice trew
On me to rew,
And reche me love againe.
66
And if not so,
Then with more woo
Enforce thiself to strayne
This simple hert,
That suffereth smart,
And rid it owte of payne.
Then with more woo
Enforce thiself to strayne
This simple hert,
That suffereth smart,
And rid it owte of payne.
| Collected poems of Sir Thomas Wyatt | |