THE LOVER LAMENTS THE DEATH OF

HIS LOVE.


T HE pillar perish'd is whereto I leant,
    The strongest stay of my unquiet mind ;
    The like of it no man again can find,
From east to west still seeking though he went,
To mine unhap.  For hap away hath rent
Of all my joy the very bark and rind :
And I, alas, by chance am thus assign'd
Daily to mourn, till death do it relent.
But since that thus it is by destiny,
What can I more but have a woful heart ;
My pen in plaint, my voice in careful cry,
My mind in woe, my body full of smart ;
    And I myself, myself always to hate,
    Till dreadful death do ease my doleful state.




Source:
Yeowell, James, Ed. The Poetical Works of Sir Thomas Wyatt.
London: George Bell and Sons, 1904. 18.




Backto the Works of Sir Thomas Wyatt


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Created by Anniina Jokinen on January 12, 2001. Last updated March 6, 2007.