Collected poems of Sir Thomas Wyatt Edited by Kenneth Muir and Patricia Thomson |
21 |
13 | I. |
II. |
4 | III. |
IV. |
2 | V. |
VI. |
2 | VII. |
VIII. |
CCXLVII. |
CCXLVIII. |
CCXLIX. |
CCL. |
CCLI. |
CCLII. |
CCLIII. |
CCLIV. |
CCLV. |
CCLVI. |
CCLVII. |
CCLVIII. |
CCLIX. |
CCLX. |
CCLXI. |
IX. |
Collected poems of Sir Thomas Wyatt | ||
XLVIII
[What nedeth these thretning wordes and wasted wynde?]
What nedeth these thretning wordes and wasted wynde?All this cannot make me restore my pray.
To robbe your good, I wis, is not my mynde,
Nor causeles your faire hand did I display.
Let love be judge, or els whome next we meit,
That may boeth here what you and I can say.
She toke from me an hert and I a glove from her:
Let vs se nowe, if th'one be wourth th'othre.
Collected poems of Sir Thomas Wyatt | ||