A Lover Left Alone

Continuaunce
Of remembraunce,
Withoute ending,
Doth me penaunce
And grete grevaunce,
For your partinge.

So depe ye be
Gravene, parde,
Within mine hert,
That afore me
Ever I you see,
In thought covert.

Though I ne plain
My woful pain,
But bere it still,
It were in vain
To say again
Fortune's will.
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