Sir Thomas Wyatt (1503–42). The Poetical Works. 1880.
Songs and SonnetsOf Love, Fortune, and the Lovers Mind
L
Eke that is now, and that, that once hath ben,
Torment my heart so sore, that very often
I hate and envy them beyond all measure.
Love slayeth mine heart, while Fortune is depriver
Of all my comfort; the foolish mind then
Burneth and plaineth, as one that very seldome
Liveth in rest. So still in displeasure
My pleasant days they fleet and pass;
And daily doth mine ill change to the worse:
While more than half is run now of my course.
Alas, not of steel, but of brittle glass,
I see that from my hand falleth my trust,
And all my thoughts are dashed into dust.