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Poem by Thomas Wyatt
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My galley, chargèd with forgetfulness, Thorough sharp seas in winter nights doth pass 'Tween rock and rock; and eke mine en'my, alas, That is my lord, steereth with cruelness; And every owre a thought in readiness, As though that death were light in such a case. An endless wind doth tear the sail apace Of forced sighs and trusty fearfulness. A rain of tears, a cloud of dark disdain, Hath done the weared cords great hinderance; Wreathèd with error and eke with ignorance. The stars be hid that led me to this pain; Drownèd is Reason that should me comfort, And I remain despairing of the port.
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