A LITTLE BOOK OF LOVE POEMS FORGET NOT YET FORGET not yet the tried intent Of such a truth as I have meant ; Forget not yet when first began Forget not yet the great assays, Forget not! oh! forget not this, Forget not then thine own approved, SIR THOMAS WYATT MY LUTE AWAKE MY lute awake! perform the last Labour that thou and I shall waste; As to be heard where ear is none; The rock doth not so cruelly Proud of the spoil that thou hast got Vengeance shall fall on thy disdain, May chance thee lie withered and old And then may chance thee to repent 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 ? And wilt thou leave me thus, And wilt thou leave me thus, Neither for pain nor smart: 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 Refuse me not without cause why; This careful knot needs knit I must. Mistrust me not, though some there be Forsake me not till I deserve, Disdain me not that am your own; SIR THOMAS WYATT |