Living
Sighes ar my foode : drynke are my teares
From The Poems of Sir Thomas Wiat (ed. A. K. Foxwell, 1913)
Living
Sighes ar my foode : drynke are my teares
Clynkinge of fetters suche musycke wolde crave ;
Stynke and close ayer away my lyf wears :
Innocencie is all the hope I have.
Rayne, wynde or wether I judge by myne eares.
Mallice assaulted that rightiousnes should have.
Sure I am Brian, this wounde shall heale agayne,
But yet, alas, the scarre shall styll remayne.
Cite this poem
MLA
Wyatt, Thomas. “Sighes ar my foode : drynke are my teares.” Poetry Codex, poetrycodex.com/poem/wyatt/73/.
Chicago
Wyatt, Thomas. “Sighes ar my foode : drynke are my teares.” Poetry Codex. https://poetrycodex.com/poem/wyatt/73/.
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