Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, SONG: 2, by THOMAS WYATT



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SONG: 2, by             Poet's Biography
First Line: Where shall I have at mine own will
Last Line: For I am gone for evermore.
Alternate Author Name(s): Wyat, Thomas
Subject(s): Death; Fortune; Life; Singing & Singers; Tears; Dead, The; Songs


Where shall I have at mine own will
Tears to complain? Where shall I fet
Such sighs that I may sigh my fill,
And then again my plaints to repeat?
For though my plaint shall have none end,
My tears cannot suffice my woe;
To moan my harm have I no friend,
For fortune's friend is mishap's foe.

Comfort, God wot, else have I none
But in the wind to waste my words;
Naught moveth you my deadly moan,
But all you turn it into bordes.

I speak not now to move your heart
That you should rue upon my pain.
The sentence given may not revert;
I know such labor were but vain.

But since that I for you, my dear,
Have lost that thing that was my best,
A right small loss it must appear
To lose these words and all the rest.

But though they sparkle in the wind,
Yet shall they show your falsed faith,
Which is returned unto his kind,
For like to like, the proverb sayeth.

Fortune and you did me avance;
Methought I swam and could not drown;
Happiest of all, but my mischance
Did lift me up to throw me down.

And you with your own cruelness
Did set your foot upon my neck;
Me and my welfare to oppress,
Without offense your heart to wreck.

Where are your pleasant words, alas?
Where your faith, your steadfastness?
There is no more, but all doth pass
And I am left all comfortless.

But for because it doth you grieve,
And also me my wretched life,
Have here my truth, shall not relieve,
But death alone my weary strife.

Therefore farewell my life, my death,
My gain, my loss, my salve, my sore;
Farewell also with you my breath,
For I am gone for evermore.





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