LOVE, Fortune, and my mind which do
    Eke that is now, and that, that once
        hath ben,
Torment my heart so sore, that very often
I hate and envy them beyond all measure.
Love slayeth mine heart, while Fortune is depriver
Of all my comfort ; the foolish mind then
Burneth and plaineth, as one that very seldome
Liveth in rest.   So still in displeasure
My pleasant days they fleet and pass ;
And daily doth mine ill change to the worse :
While more than half is run now of my course.
Alas, not of steel, but of brittle glass,
    I see that from my hand falleth my trust,
   And all my thoughts are dashed into dust.

1 Petrarch, Son. 99.

[AJ Notes:
Eke that is now, both that which is now
plaineth, complaineth
still, ever, always ]

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Text source:
Yeowell, James, Ed. The Poetical Works of Sir Thomas Wyatt.
London: George Bell and Sons, 1904. 13-14.

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