Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, TO HIS LUTE, by THOMAS WYATT



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TO HIS LUTE, by         Recitation     Poet's Biography
First Line: My lute, awake! Perform the last / labor that thou and I shall waste
Last Line: My lute, be still, for I have done.
Alternate Author Name(s): Wyat, Thomas
Variant Title(s): Egerton Manuscript: 66;the Lover Complaineth The Unkindness Of His Love;song: 12
Subject(s): Love - Complaints; Lutes


MY Lute, awake! Perform the last
Labour that thou and I shall waste,
And end that I have now begun;
For when this song is sung and past,
My lute, be still, for I have done.

As to be heard where ear is none,
As lead to grave in marble stone,
My song may pierce her heart as soon:
Should we then sing, or sigh, or moan?
No, no, my lute! for I have done.

The rocks do not so cruelly
Repulse the waves continually,
As she my suit and affection:
So that I am past remedy:
Whereby my lute and I have done.

Proud of the spoil that thou hast got
Of simple hearts thorough Love's shot,
By whom, unkind, thou hast them won;
Think not he hath his how forgot,
Although my lute and I have done.

Vengeance shall fall on thy disdain,
That mak'st but game of earnest pain:
Think not alone under the sun
Unquit to cause thy lover's plain,
Although my lute and I have done.

May chance thee lie withered and old
The winter nights that are so cold,
Plaining in vain unto the moon:
Thy wishes then dare not be told;
Care then who list! for I have done.

And then may chance thee to repent
The time that thou hast lost and spent
To cause thy lover's sigh and swoon:
Then shalt thou know beauty but lent,
And wish and want as I have done.

Now cease, my lute! This is the last
Labour that thou and I shall waste,
And ended is that we begun:
Now is this song both sung and past--
My lute, be still, for I have done.






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