Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, BALLADE: 9, by THOMAS WYATT

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BALLADE: 9, by             Poet's Biography
First Line: Such hap as I am happed in
Last Line: Such hap as I.
Alternate Author Name(s): Wyat, Thomas
Subject(s): Longing

Such hap as I am happed in
Had never man of truth I ween;
At me fortune list to begin
To show that never hath been seen,
A new kind of unhappiness;
Nor I cannot the thing I mean
Myself express.

Myself express my deadly pain
That can I well, if that might serve;
But when I have not help again
That know I not unless I starve,
For hunger still amids my food
Is so granted that I deserve
To do me good.

To do me good what may prevail,
For I deserve and not desire,
And still of cold I me bewail,
And raked am in burning fire;
For though I have, such is my lot,
In hand to help that I require,
It helpeth not.

It helpeth not, but to increase
That that by proof can be no more;
That is, the heat that cannot cease,
And that I have to crave so sore,
What wonder is this greedy lust
To ask and have, and yet therefore
Refrain I must.

Refrain I must. What is the cause?
Sure as they say, "So hawks be taught."
But in my case layeth no such clause,
For with such craft I am not caught;
Wherefore I say and good cause why,
With hapless hand no man hath wrought
Such hap as I.

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