Ever myn happe is slack and slo in commyng

Ever myn happe is slack and slo in commyng,
Desir encresing, myn hope uncertain,
That leve it or wayt it doeth me like pain,
And Tigre like, swift it is in parting.
Alas, the snow shalbe black and scalding,
The See waterles, fisshe in the moyntain,
The Tamys shall retorne back into his fountain,
And where he rose the sonne shall take lodging,
Ere that I in this fynde peace or quyetenes,
Or that love or my lady rightwisely
Leve to conspire again me wrongfully;
And if that I have after suche bitternes
Any thing swete, my mouth is owte of tast,
That all my trust and travaill is but wast.
Author of original: 
Francesco Petrarch
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