Collected poems of Sir Thomas Wyatt Edited by Kenneth Muir and Patricia Thomson |
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| 13 | | I. |
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| 1 | V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
| XI. |
| XII. |
| XIII. |
| XIV. |
| XV. |
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| XVII. |
| XVIII. |
| XIX. |
| 1 | XX. |
| XXI. |
| XXII. | XXII
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| 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. |
| 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 |  |
XXII
[Resound my voyse, ye woodes that here me plain]
Resound my voyse, ye woodes that here me plain,
Boeth hilles and vales causing reflexion;
And Ryvers eke record ye of my pain,
Which have ye oft forced by compassion
As Judges to here myn exclamation;
Emong whome pitie I fynde doeth remayn:
Where I it seke, Alas, there is disdain.
Boeth hilles and vales causing reflexion;
And Ryvers eke record ye of my pain,
Which have ye oft forced by compassion
As Judges to here myn exclamation;
Emong whome pitie I fynde doeth remayn:
Where I it seke, Alas, there is disdain.
Oft ye Revers, to here my wofull sounde,
Have stopt your course and, plainly to expresse,
Many a tere by moystour of the grounde
The erth hath wept to here my hevenes;
Which causeles to suffre without redresse
The howgy okes have rored in the wynde:
Eche thing me thought complayning in their kynde.
Have stopt your course and, plainly to expresse,
Many a tere by moystour of the grounde
The erth hath wept to here my hevenes;
Which causeles to suffre without redresse
The howgy okes have rored in the wynde:
Eche thing me thought complayning in their kynde.
Why, then, helas, doeth not she on me rew?
Or is her hert so herd that no pitie
May in it synke, my Joye for to renew?
O stony hert, who hath thus joyned the
So cruell that art, cloked with beaultie?
No grace to me from the there may procede,
But as rewarded deth for to be my mede.
Or is her hert so herd that no pitie
May in it synke, my Joye for to renew?
O stony hert, who hath thus joyned the
So cruell that art, cloked with beaultie?
No grace to me from the there may procede,
But as rewarded deth for to be my mede.
| Collected poems of Sir Thomas Wyatt | |