Poem by Thomas Wyatt

* * *

Alas, madam, for stealing of a kiss
Have I so much your mind there offended?
Have I then done so grievously amiss
That by no means it may be amended?

Then revenge you, and the next way is this:
Another kiss shall have my life ended,
For to my mouth the first my heart did suck;
The next shall clean out of my breast it pluck.

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

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