* * *
Since so ye please to hear me plain, And that ye do rejoice my smart, Me list no lenger to remain To such as be so overthwart. But cursed be that cruel heart Which hath procur'd a careless mind For me and mine unfeigned smart, And forceth me such faults to find. More than too much I am assured Of thine intent, whereto to trust; A speedless proof I have endured, And now I leave it to them that lust.
Thomas Wyatt’s other poems:
