Love
Ys yt possyble
From The Poems of Sir Thomas Wiat (ed. A. K. Foxwell, 1913)
Ys yt possyble,
That so hye debate,
So sharpe, so sore, and off suche rate,
Shuld end so sone that was begone so late,
Is It possyble !
Ys yt possyble !
So cruell intent
So hasty hete and so sone spent,
Ffrom love to hate, and thens ffor to relent.
Is it possyble ! lo
Ys yt possyble !
That eny may fynde
Within oon hart, so diverse mynd.
To change or torn as wether and wynd.
Is it possyble !
Is it possyble
To spye it in an lye
That tornys as oft as chance on dy.
The trothe whereoff can eny try ?
Is it possyble !
It is possyble
Ffor to torne so oft,
To bryng that lowyste that was most aloft.
And to fall hyest yet to lyght sofft,
It is possyble.
All ys possyble,
Who so list beleve;
Trust therfore fyrst, and after preve :
As men wedd ladyes by lycence and leva
All ys possyble.
Cite this poem
MLA
Wyatt, Thomas. “Ys yt possyble.” Poetry Codex, poetrycodex.com/poem/wyatt/134/.
Chicago
Wyatt, Thomas. “Ys yt possyble.” Poetry Codex. https://poetrycodex.com/poem/wyatt/134/.
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