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A LITTLE

BOOK OF LOVE POEMS

FORGET NOT YET

FORGET not yet the tried intent

Of such a truth as I have meant ;
My great travail so gladly spent,
Forget not yet!

Forget not yet when first began
The weary life ye know, since whan
The suit, the service none tell can;
Forget not yet!

Forget not yet the great assays,
The cruel wrong, the scornful ways,
The painful patience in delays,
Forget not yet!

Forget not! oh! forget not this,
How long ago hath been and is
The mind that never meant amiss,
Forget not yet!

Forget not then thine own approved,
The which so long hath thee so loved,
Whose steadfast faith yet never moved :
Forget not yet!

SIR THOMAS WYATT

MY LUTE AWAKE

MY lute awake! perform the last

Labour that thou and I shall waste;
And end that I have now begun :
And 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 rock doth 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 bow forgot,
Although my lute and I have done.

Vengeance shall fall on thy disdain,
That makest but game of earnest pain;
Trow not alone under the sun
Unquit to cause thy lovers plain,
Although my lute and I have done.

May chance thee lie withered and old
In 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 lovers 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 thy song both sung and past;

My lute, be still, for I have done.

SIR THOMAS WYATT

SAY NAY

AND wilt thou leave me thus ?

Say nay say nay! for shame,

To save thee from the blame

Of all my grief and grame,

And wilt thou leave me thus ?
Say nay! say nay!

And wilt thou leave me thus,
That have loved thee so long
In wealth and woe among:
And is thy heart so strong
As for to leave me thus ?
Say nay! say nay!

And wilt thou leave me thus,
That hath given thee my heart
Never for to depart

Neither for pain nor smart:
And wilt thou leave me thus ?
Say nay say nay!

And wilt thou leave me thus

And have no more pity

Of him that loveth thee?

Alas! thy cruelty!

And wilt thou leave me thus ?

Say nay! say nay!

SIR THOMAS WYATT

DISDA

DISDAIN ME NOT

ISDAIN me not without desert
Nor leave me not so suddenly
Since well ye wot, that in my hert
I mean ye not but honestly.

Refuse me not without cause why;
Forethink me not, to be unjust,
Since that by lot of fantasy

This careful knot needs knit I must.

Mistrust me not, though some there be
That fain would spot my steadfastness;
Believe them not, since that ye see
The proof is not as they express.

Forsake me not till I deserve,
Nor hate me not till I offend,
Destroy me not till that I swerve,
But since ye know what I intend.

Disdain me not that am your own;
Refuse me not that am so true;
Mistrust me not till all be known;
Forsake me not ne for no new.

SIR THOMAS WYATT

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