Collected poems of Sir Thomas Wyatt | ||
XIX
[Thou hast no faith of him that hath none]
Thou hast no faith of him that hath none,
But thou must love him nedes by reason;
For as saieth a proverbe notable,
Eche thing seketh his semblable:
And thou hast thyn of thy condition.
Yet is it not the thing I passe on,
Nor hote nor cold of myn affection;
For syns thyn hert is so mutable,
Thou hast no faith.
But thou must love him nedes by reason;
For as saieth a proverbe notable,
Eche thing seketh his semblable:
And thou hast thyn of thy condition.
Yet is it not the thing I passe on,
Nor hote nor cold of myn affection;
For syns thyn hert is so mutable,
Thou hast no faith.
I thought the true withoute exception,
But I perceve I lacked discretion
To fasshion faith to wordes mutable:
Thy thought is to light and variable,
To chaunge so oft withoute occasion,
Thou hast no faith.
But I perceve I lacked discretion
To fasshion faith to wordes mutable:
Thy thought is to light and variable,
To chaunge so oft withoute occasion,
Thou hast no faith.
Collected poems of Sir Thomas Wyatt | ||