In faith I not what to say

LXXXVI

In faith I not well what to say,
Thy chances been so wondrous,
Thou Fortune, with thy diverse play
That causeth joy full dolourous
And eke the same right joyous.
Yet though thy chain hath me enwrapped,
Spite of thy hap, hap hath well happed.

Though thou me set for a wonder
And seekest thy change to do me pain,
Men's minds yet may thou not order,
And honesty, an it remain,
Shall shine for all thy cloudy rain.
In vain thou seekest to have me trapped.
Spite of thy hap, hap hath well happed.
In hindering thou diddest further
And made a gap where was a stile.
Cruel wills been oft put under.
Weening to lour thou diddest smile.
Lord! how thyself thou diddest beguile
That in thy cares wouldest me have lapped!
But spite of thy hap, hap hath well happed.
Rate this poem: 

Reviews

No reviews yet.