Verse > Sir Thomas Wyatt > Poetical Works
Sir Thomas Wyatt (1503–42).  The Poetical Works.  1880.
That Patience alone can heal the Wound inflicted by Adversity
  PATIENCE of all my smart!
For Fortune is turned awry:
Patience must ease my heart,
That mourns continually.
Patience to suffer wrong        5
Is a Patience too long.
  Patience to have a nay,
Of that I most desire;
Patience to have alway,
And ever burn like fire.        10
Patience without desart
Is grounder of my smart.
  Who can with merry heart
Set forth some pleasant song,
That always feels but smart,        15
And never hath but wrong?
Yet patience evermore
Must heal the wound and sore.
  Patience! to be content,
With froward Fortune’s train!        20
Patience, to the intent
Somewhat to slake my pain:
I see no remedy,
But suffer patiently.
  To plain where is none ear        25
My chance is chanced so;
For it doth well appear
My Friend is turn’d my foe:
But since there is no defence,
I must take Patience.        30

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