Alas! my dear, the word thou spakest


Alas! my dear, the word thou spakest
Hath struck the stroke within my breast
Of cruel death, since thou forsakest
Me and my faithful meant behest.
Too long I shewed that word to hear
That doth renew my great unrest
And mourning cheer,

And mourning cheer, which by despair
For want of hope is much increased
So that, now past both hope and fear,
Of my judgement I know the best
Is life awhile in painful woe;
And how soon death will pierce my breast
I do not know.

I do not know when nor how soon
The stroke thou smast within my heart
Will bleed me to a deadly swoon.
But well I know, though thou revert,
Till it doth bleed and I stark dead,
I shall renew with daily smart
This life I lead,

This life I lead and live too long
Against my will in tears to melt,
Since none there is may right my wrong.
But I must feel that I have felt
The stroke of death and cannot die,
Guarded within the strongest belt
Of cruelty,

Of cruelty and cruel death
Forced to abide extremity,
And yet to live, though I want breath
To show further how cruelly
My hope is turned to mourning cheer,
And ye the cause thereof only,
Alas, my dear.
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