Classic Poem

CCXLVII

I have been a lover
Full long and many days
And oft-times a prover
Of the most painful ways.
But all that I have passed
As trifles to this last.

By proof I know the pain
Of them that sue and serve
And nothing can attain
Of that which they deserve.
But those pangs have I passed
As trifles to this last.

I have ere this been thrall
And durst it never show
But glad to suffer all
And so to cloak my woe.
Yet that pang have I passed
As trifles to this last.

By length of time ere now
I have attained grace;
And ere I wist well how,
Another had my place.
Yet that pang have I passed
As trifles to this last.

My love well near once won
And I full like to speed,
Evil tongues have then begun
With lies to let my meed.
Yet that pang have I passed
As trifles to this last.

Sometime I loved one
That liked well my suit,
But of my deadly moan
Fair words was all the fruit.
Yet that pang have I passed
As trifles to this last.

My steadfast faith and will
With fair words have I told;
Yet have I found them still
In their belief too cold.
But that pang have I passed
As trifles to this last.

In love when I have been
With them that loved me
Such danger have I seen
That we would not agree.
But that pang have I passed
As trifles to this last.

Absence oft-times ere this
Hath doubled my disease
In causing me to miss
That thing that might me please.
Yet that pang have I passed
As trifles to this last.

To promise love for love
And make too long delays
Hath made me for to prove
Of love the painful ways.
Yet that pang have I passed
As trifles to this last.

Full many torments more
In loving I have found,
Which oft hath pained sore
My heart when it was bound.
Yet all that have I passed
As trifles to this last.

Now guess all ye that list
And judge now as ye please.
For oft-times have ye missed
In judging my disease,
Be nothing then aghast
Though ye misjudge these last.