I Find No Peace
Sir Thomas Wyatt
1503 to 1542
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I find no peace, and all my war is done.
I fear and hope. I burn and freeze like ice.
I fly above the wind, yet can I not arise;
And nought I have, and all the world I season.
That loseth nor locketh holdeth me in prison
And me not—yet can I scape no wise—
Nor letteth live nor die at my device,
And yet of it giveth me occasion.
Without eyen I see, and tongue I plain.
I desire to perish, and yet ask health.
I love another, and thus I hate myself.
I feed me in sorrow and laugh in all pain;
Likewise displeaseth me both life and death,
And delight is causer of this strife.