But let it pass, and think it is of kind
That often change doth please a woman’s mind.
Sir Thomas Wyatt
Tangled was I in Love’s snare.
Oppressed with pain, torment with care;
Of grief right sure, of joy quite bare,
Clean in despair by cruelty.
Sir Thomas Wyatt
Nothing on earth more would I have,
Save that I have, to have it still.
Sir Thomas Wyatt
And wilt thou leave me thus?
That hath loved thee so long
In wealth and woe among:
And is thy heart so strong
As for to leave me thus?
Say nay! say nay!
Sir Thomas Wyatt
Throughout the world if it were sought,
Fair words enough a man shall find,
They be good cheap, they cost right nought,
Their substance is but only wind,
But well to say, and so to mean,
That sweet accord is seldom seen.
Sir Thomas Wyatt