Sir Thomas Wyatt (1503–42). The Poetical Works. 1880.
Songs and EpigramsOf his Love that pricked her Finger with a Needle
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Whereof I plain, and have done many a day:
And, whilst she heard my plaint, in piteous song
She wish’d my heart the sampler, that it lay.
The blind master, whom I have served so long,
Grudging to hear that he did hear her say,
Made her own weapon do her finger bleed,
To feel if pricking were so good indeed.