OF THE FOLLY OF LOVING WHEN THE

SEASON OF LOVE IS PAST.


Y E old mule !1 that think yourself so fair,
   Leave off with craft your beauty to repair,
   For it is time without any fable ;
No man setteth now by riding in your saddle !
Too much travail so do your train appair ;
                Ye old mule !
With false favour though you deceive th'ayes,
Who so taste you shall well perceive your layes
Savoureth somewhat of a keeper's stable ;
                Ye old mule !
Ye must now serve to market, and to fair,
All for the burthen, for panniers a pair ;
For since gray hairs ben powder'd in your sable,
The thing ye seek for, you must yourself enable
To purchase it by payment and by prayer ;
                Ye old mule.


1  The word “ mule ” was a word used formerly to describe
a woman of a licentious character.—Nott.



Source:
Yeowell, James, Ed. The Poetical Works of Sir Thomas Wyatt.
London: George Bell and Sons, 1904. 26.




Backto the Works of Sir Thomas Wyatt


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