| Sir Thomas Wyatt (1503–42). The Poetical Works. 1880. | | | | Songs and Sonnets | | The Lover prayeth his offered Heart to be received |
| | | HOW oft have I, my dear and cruel foe, | |
| With my great pain to get some peace or truce, | |
| Given you my heart; but you do not use | |
| In so high things, to cast your mind so low. | |
| If any other look for it, as you trow, | 5 |
| Their vain weak hope doth greatly them abuse: | |
| And that thus I disdain, that you refuse; | |
| It was once mine, it can no more be so. | |
| If you it chafe, that it in you can find, | |
| In this exile, no manner of comfort, | 10 |
| Nor live alone, nor where he is called resort; | |
| He may wander from his natural kind. | |
| So shall it be great hurt unto us twain, | |
| And yours the loss, and mine the deadly pain. | | | | |
|
|
