Автор: THOMAS WYATT

Whoso list to hunt, I know where is an hind! But as for me, alas, I may no more; The […]

Was never file yet half so well yfiled, To file a file for any smith’s intent, As I was made […]

The lively sparks that issue from those eyes, Against the which there vaileth no defence, Have pierced my heart, and […]

My love to scorn, my service to retain, Therein, methought, you used cruelty; Since with good will I lost my […]

Avising the bright beams of those fair eyes, Where he abides that mine oft moisteth and washeth; The wearies mind […]

The pillar perish’d is whereto I leant, The strongest stay of my unquiet mind; The like of it no man […]

Such is the course that nature’s kind hath wrought That snakes have time to cast away their stings: Against chain’d […]

WHAT should I say? –Since Faith is dead, And Truth away From you is fled? Should I be led With […]

And wilt thou leave me thus? Say nay, say nay, for shame, To save thee from the blame Of all […]

They flee from me, that sometime did me seek, With naked foot stalking within my chamber: Once have I seen […]

Lux, my fair falcon, and your fellows all, How well pleasant it were your liberty. Ye not forsake me that […]

MY mother’s maids, when they did sew and spin, They sang sometime a song of the field mouse, That for […]

Such vain thought as wonted to mislead me In desert hope, by well assured moan, Makes me from company to […]