Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, BALLADE: 32, by THOMAS WYATT



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BALLADE: 32, by             Poet's Biography
First Line: Being as none is, I do complain
Last Line: With 'pity' for 'patience' and 'conscience' for 'wrong'.
Alternate Author Name(s): Wyat, Thomas
Subject(s): Death; Hope; Pain; Dead, The; Optimism; Suffering; Misery


Being as none is, I do complain
Of my mishap, torment, and my woe,
Wishing for death with all my might and main
For life is to me as my chief deadly foe.
Alas, alas, of comfort I have no moe,
Left but only to sing this doleful song:
'Patience, perforce, content thyself with wrong.'

Ever I hope some favour to obtain,
Trusting that she will recompense at last,
As reason were, my passing deadly pain.
And still I persevered and they increased so fast
That hope me left and I, as all aghast,
Had no comfort, but learned to sing this song:
'Patience, perforce, content thyself with wrong.'

I burn and boil, without redress.
I sigh, I weep, and all in vain,
Now hot, now cold. Who can express
The thousand part of my great pain?
But if I might her favour attain
Then would I trust to change this song,
With 'pity' for 'patience' and 'conscience' for 'wrong'.





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