|
Classic and Contemporary Poetry
SONG: 38, by THOMAS WYATT Poet Analysis Poet's Biography First Line: Me list no more to sing Last Line: I wott what I doo meane. Alternate Author Name(s): Wyat, Thomas Subject(s): Singing & Singers; Songs | |||
Me list no more to sing Of love nor of suche thing, Howe sore that yt me wring; For what I song or spake Men dede my songis mistake. My songes ware to defuse, Theye made folke to muse; Therefor, me to excuse, Theye shall be song more plaine, Nothr of joye nor payne. What vaileth then to skipp At fructe over the lippe? For frute withouten taste Dothe noght but rott and waste. What vaileth undre kaye To kepe treasure alwaye That never shall se daye? Yf yt be not usid, Yt ys but abusid. What vayleth the flowre To stond still and whither? Yf no man yt savour Yt servis onlye for sight And fadith towardes night. Therefore fere not tassaye To gadre ye that maye The flower that this daye Is fresher than the next: Marke well, I saye, this text. Let not the frute be lost That is desired moste, Delight shall quite the coste. Yf hit be tane in tyme, Small labour is to clyme. And as for siche treasure That makithe the the richer, And no dele the porer, When it is gyven or lente Me thinkes yt ware well spente. Yf this be undre miste, And not well playnlye wyste, Undrestonde me who lyste; For I reke not a bene, I wott what I doo meane. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE APOLLO TRIO by CONRAD AIKEN BAD GIRL SINGING by MARK JARMAN CHAMBER MUSIC: 4 by JAMES JOYCE CHAMBER MUSIC: 5 by JAMES JOYCE CHAMBER MUSIC: 28 by JAMES JOYCE THE SONG OF THE NIGHTINGALE IS LIKE THE SCENT OF SYRINGA by MINA LOY |
|