Verse > Sir Thomas Wyatt > Poetical Works
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Sir Thomas Wyatt (1503–42).  The Poetical Works.  1880.
 
Odes
The Complaint of a deserted Lover
 
  HOW should I
Be so pleasant,
In my semblant,
As my fellows be?
  Not long ago,        5
It chanced so,
As I did walk alone;
I heard a man,
That now and than
Himself did thus bemoan:        10
  ‘Alas!’ he said,
‘I am betray’d,
And utterly undone;
Whom I did trust,
And think so just,        15
Another man hath won.
  ‘My service due,
And heart so true,
On her I did bestow;
I never meant        20
For to repent,
In wealth, nor yet in woe.
  ‘Each western wind
Hath turned her mind,
And blown it clean away;        25
Thereby my wealth,
My mirth and health,
Are driven to great decay.
  ‘Fortune did smile
A right short while,        30
And never said me nay;
With pleasant plays,
And joyful days,
My time to pass away.
  ‘Alas! alas!        35
The time so was,
So never shall it be,
Since she is gone,
And I alone
Am left as you may see.        40
  ‘Where is the oath?
Where is the troth?
That she to me did give?
Such feigned words,
With sely bourds,        45
Let no wise man believe.
  ‘For even as I,
Thus wofully,
Unto myself complain:
If ye then trust,        50
Needs learn ye must,
To sing my song in vain.
  ‘How should I
Be so pleasant,
In my semblant,        55
As my fellows be?’
 
 
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