I Find No Peace

Sir Thomas Wyatt

1503 to 1542

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