Poem by Thomas Wyatt

Whoso List to Hunt

Whoso list to hunt, I know where is an hind,
But as for me, helas! I may no more.
The vain travail hath wearied me so sore,
I am of them that furthest come behind.
Yet may I by no means, my wearied mind
Draw from the deer; but as she fleeth afore
Fainting I follow. I leave off therefore,
Since in a net I seek to hold the wind.
Who list her hunt, I put him out of doubt,
As well as I, may spend his time in vain;
And graven in diamonds in letters plain
There is written, her fair neck round about,
'Noli me tangere, for Caesar's I am,
And wild to hold, though I seem tame.' 

1. My Lute Awake
2. Of the Mean and Sure Estate
3. The Furious Gun
4. Lucks, My Fair Falcon
5. Since so Ye Please

Print

2211 Views

Last Poems

To Russian version