Love
There was never ffile : half so well filed
From The Poems of Sir Thomas Wiat (ed. A. K. Foxwell, 1913)
There was never ffile : half so well filed,
To file a file for every smythes intent :
As I was made a filing instrument :
To frame othrs while I was begiled.
But reason hath at my follie smyled :
And pardond me sins that I me repent.
Of my lost yeres, and tyme myspent :
For yeuth did me lede and falshode guyded,
Yet this trust I have of full great aperaunce :
Syns that decept is ay retourneable,
Of very force it is aggreable;
That therewithal be done the recompence.
Then gile begiled plained should be never.
And the reward litle trust for ever.
Cite this poem
MLA
Wyatt, Thomas. “There was never ffile : half so well filed.” Poetry Codex, poetrycodex.com/poem/wyatt/22/.
Chicago
Wyatt, Thomas. “There was never ffile : half so well filed.” Poetry Codex. https://poetrycodex.com/poem/wyatt/22/.
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