Poem by Thomas Wyatt

* * *

Since so ye please to hear me plain,
And that ye do rejoice my smart,
Me list no lenger to remain
To such as be so overthwart.

But cursed be that cruel heart
Which hath procur'd a careless mind
For me and mine unfeigned smart,
And forceth me such faults to find.

More than too much I am assured
Of thine intent, whereto to trust;
A speedless proof I have endured,
And now I leave it to them that lust. 

1. In Spain
2. To His Lute
3. Lucks, My Fair Falcon
4. What Needeth these Threnning Words and Wasted Wind
5. Abide and Abide and Better Abide

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