Verse > Sir Thomas Wyatt > Poetical Works
Sir Thomas Wyatt (1503–42).  The Poetical Works.  1880.
Songs and Epigrams
Wyatt being in Prison, to Bryan
SIGHS are my food, my drink are my tears;
Clinking of fetters would such music crave;
Stink, and close air away my life it wears;
Poor innocence is all the hope I have:
Rain, wind, or weather judge I by my ears:        5
Malice assaults, that righteousness should have.
  Sure am I, Bryan, this wound shall heal again,
  But yet, alas, the scar shall still remain.

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