CANZONE: 5 by THOMAS WYATT

Since love will needs that I shall love,
Of very force I must agree;
And since no chance may it remove,
In wealth and in adversity,
I shall always myself apply
To serve and suffer patiently.

Though for goodwill I find but hate,
And cruelty my life to waste;
And though that still a wretched state
Should pine my days unto the last,
Yet I profess it willingly
To serve and suffer patiently.

For since my heart is bound to serve,
And I not ruler of mine own,
Whatso befall, till that I sterve,
By proof full well it shall be known,
That I shall still myself apply
To serve and suffer patiently.

Yea, though my grief find no redress,
But still increase before mine eyes;
Though my reward be cruelness,
With all the harm hap can devise,
Yet I profess it willingly
To serve and suffer patiently.

Yea, though fortune her pleasant face
Should show, to set me up aloft,
And straight, my wealth for to deface,
Should writhe away, as she doth oft,
Yet would I still myself apply
To serve and suffer patiently.

There is no grief, no smart, no woe,
That yet I feel or after shall,
That from this mind may make me go;
And whatsoever me befall,
I do profess it willingly
To serve and suffer patiently.

Classic and Contemporary Poetry

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