Verse > Sir Thomas Wyatt > Poetical Works
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Sir Thomas Wyatt (1503–42).  The Poetical Works.  1880.
 
Odes
That too much Confidence sometimes disappointeth Hope
 
  MY hope, alas! hath me abused,
And vain rejoicing hath me fed:
Lust and joy have me refused,
And careful plaint is in their stead;
Too much advancing slack’d my speed,        5
Mirth hath caused my heaviness,
And I remain all comfortless.
  Whereto did I assure my thought
Without displeasure steadfastly;
In Fortune’s forge my joy was wrought,        10
And is revolted readily.
I am mistaken wonderly;
For I thought nought but faithfulness;
Yet I remain all comfortless.
  In gladsome cheer I did delight,        15
Till that delight did cause my smart,
And all was wrong when I thought right;
For right it was, that my true heart
Should not from Truth be set apart,
Since Truth did cause my hardiness;        20
Yet I remain all comfortless.
  Sometime delight did tune my song,
And led my heart full pleasantly;
And to myself I said among—
‘My hap is coming hastily.’        25
But it hath happed contrary.
Assurance causeth my distress,
And I remain all comfortless.
  Then if my note now do vary,
And leave his wonted pleasantness;        30
The heavy burthen that I carry
Hath alter’d all my joyfulness.
No pleasure hath still steadfastness,
But haste hath hurt my happiness;
And I remain all comfortless.        35
 
 
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