It’s a while since I shared anything by Thomas Wyatt – such an incredible and gifted man… here, is ‘Sonnet 2’ –
The long love that in my thought doth harbour
And in my heart doth keep his residence
Into my face presseth with bold pretence
And therein campeth spreading his banner.
She that me learneth to love and suffer
And wills that my trust and lust’s negligence
Be reined by reason, shame, and reverence
With his hardiness taketh displeasure.
Where with all unto the heart’s forest he fleeeth
Leaving his enterprise with pain and cry,
And there him hideth and not appeareth.
What may I do when my master feareth ?
But in the field with him to live and die ?
For good is the life, ending faithfully.
The longe love that in my thought doeth harbar :
And in my hert doeth keep his residence
Into my face preseth with bolde pretence
And therein campeth spreding his baner.
She that me lerneth to love and suffre
And willes that my trust and lustes negligence
Be rayned by reason, shame, and reverence
With his hardines taketh displeasur.
Where with all unto the hertes forrest he fleith :
Leving his enterprise with payn and cry
And ther him hideth and not appereth.
What may I do when my maister fereth ?
But in the feld with him to lyve and dye ?
For goode is the liff, ending faithfully.