Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, BALLADE: 17, by THOMAS WYATT



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BALLADE: 17, by             Poet's Biography
First Line: The joy so short, alas, the pain so near
Last Line: That undeserved, causeless to remain.
Alternate Author Name(s): Wyat, Thomas
Subject(s): Fear; Grief; Happiness; Love; Pain; Sorrow; Sadness; Joy; Delight; Suffering; Misery


The joy so short, alas, the pain so near,
The way so long, the departure so smart,
The first sight, alas, I bought too dear,
That so suddenly now from hence must part;
The body gone, yet remain shall the heart
With her, the which for me salt tears did rain,
And shall not change till that we meet again.

The time doth pass, yet shall not my love;
Though I be far, always my heart is near;
Though other change, yet will not I remove;
Though other care not, yet love I will and fear;
Though other hate, yet will I love my dear;
Though other will of lightness say adieu,
Yet will I be found steadfast and true.

When other laugh, alas, then do I weep;
When other sing, then do I wail and cry;
When other run, perforced I am to creep;
When other dance, in sorrow I do lie;
When other joy, for pain well near I die;
Thus brought from wealth, alas, to endless pain,
That undeserved, causeless to remain.





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