Sir Thomas Wyatt

(1503-1542 / Kent / England)

I Find No Peace


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 holdeth me not--yet can I scape no wise--
Nor letteth me live nor die at my device,
And yet of death it giveth me occasion.
Without eyen I see, and without tongue I plain.
I desire to perish, and yet I ask health.
I love another, and thus I hate myself.
I feed me in sorrow and laugh in all my pain;
Likewise displeaseth me both life and death,
And my delight is causer of this strife.

Submitted: Thursday, May 17, 2001

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  • Jake Blues (12/4/2007 8:11:00 PM)

    I love this poem. The second to last line is reversed, though.

    Should read...

    Likewise displeaseth me both death and life,
    And my delight is causer of this strife. (Report) Reply

Read all 1 comments »

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