 | Collected poems of Sir Thomas Wyatt |  |
LXXV
[Desire, alas, my master and my foo]
Desire, alas, my master and my foo,So sore alterd thi sellff how mayst thou se?
Some tyme I sowght that dryvys me to and fro;
Some tyme thow ledst that ledyth the and me.
What reson is to rewle thy subiectes so
By forcyd law and mutabilite?
For where by the I dowtyd to have blame,
Evyn now by hate agayne I dowt the same.
| Collected poems of Sir Thomas Wyatt | |