Poem by Thomas Wyatt

* * *

Divers doth use, as I have heard and know,
When that to change their ladies do begin,
To mourn and wail, and never for to lin,
Hoping thereby to pease their painful woe.
And some there be, that when it chanceth so
That women change and hate where love hath been,
They call them false and think with words to win
The hearts of them which otherwhere doth grow.
But as for me, though that by chance indeed
Change hath outworn the favor that I had,
I will not wail, lament, nor yet be sad,
Nor call her false that falsely did me feed,
But let it pass, and think it is of kind
That often change doth please a woman's mind. 

1. My Lute Awake
2. The Furious Gun
3. Since so Ye Please
4. Unstable Dream
5. Of the Mean and Sure Estate

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