Verse > Sir Thomas Wyatt > Poetical Works
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Sir Thomas Wyatt (1503–42).  The Poetical Works.  1880.
 
Odes
Of the Contrary Affections of the Lover
 
  SUCH hap as I am happed in,
Had never man of truth I ween;
At me Fortune list to begin,
To shew that never hath been seen,
A new kind of unhappiness;        5
Nor I cannot the thing I mean
      Myself express.
Myself express my deadly pain,
That can I well, if that might serve;
But when I have not help again,        10
That know I not, unless I sterve,
For hunger still amiddes my food
[Lacking the thing] that I deserve
      To do me good.
To do me good what may prevail,        15
For I deserve, and not desire,
And still of cold I me bewail,
And raked am in burning fire;
For though I have, such is my lot,
In hand to help that I require,        20
      It helpeth not.
It helpeth not but to increase
That, that by proof can be no more;
That is, the heat that cannot cease;
And that I have, to crave so sore.        25
What wonder is this greedy lust!
To ask and have, and yet therefore
      Refrain I must.
Refrain I must; what is the cause?
Sure as they say, ‘So hawks be taught.’        30
But in my case layeth no such clause;
For with such craft I am not caught;
Wherefore I say, and good cause why,
With hapless hand no man hath raught
      Such hap as I.        35
 
 
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