The Long Love

The long love that in my thought doth harbour,
And in mine heart doth keep his residence,
Into my face presseth with bold pretence,
And therein campeth, spreading his banner.
She that me learneth to love and suffer,
And wills that my trust and lust's negligence
Be reined by reason, shame, and reverence,
With his hardiness taketh displeasure.
Wherewithal, unto the heart's forest he fleeth,
Leaving his enterprise with pain and cry;
And there him hideth, and not appeareth.
What may I do when my master feareth
But in the field with him to live or die?
For good is the life ending faithfully.

by Sir Thomas Wyatt

Comments (4)

A beautiful poem with amusing depiction. Congratulations to his soul for being selected as the poem of the day.
'Too old to love, too wise to heed your vow, Too cold to feel your cold hand upon my breast. is so beautiful. A poem I would like to read again and again. Thanks for posting.
When I am old, and cold, and wise, and grown As far beyond as you outstrip me now, - Too old to love, too wise to heed your vow.... //.... Romanticism merged in reality presents a sad picture. Thanks.
Such an enjoyable poem to read......