Henry VIII, King of England Poems

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Green Groweth The Holly

1 Green groweth the holly,
2 So doth the ivy.
3 Though winter blasts blow never so high,

Passtime With Good Company

1 Pastime with good company
2 I love and shall unto I die.
3 Grudge whoso will, but none deny,
4 So God be pleased, this live will I.

Though That Men Do Call It Dotage

1 Though that men do call it dotage,
2 Who loveth not wanteth courage;

3 And whosoever may love get,

Lusty Youth Should Us Ensue

1 Lusty Youth should us ensue.
2 His merry heart shall sure all rue.
3 For whatsoever they do him tell,
4 It is not for him, we know it well.

Though Some Saith That Youth Ruleth Me

1 Though some saith that youth ruleth me,
2 I trust in age to tarry.
3 God and my right and my duty,
4 From them I shall never vary,

The Tyme Of Youthe

The tyme of youthe is to be spent;
But vice in it shuld be forfent.

Pastymes ther be I nought treulye
Whych one may use, and vice denye

Withowt Dyscord

Withowt dyscord
And bothe acorde
Now let us be;
Bothe hartes alone

Whoso That Wyll All Feattes Optayne

Whoso that wyll all feattes optayne,
In love he must be withowt dysdayne,

For love enforyth all nobyle kynd
And dysdayne dyscorages all gentyl mynd

O My Hart!

O my hart and O my hart!
My hart it is so sore,
Sens I must nedys from my love depart
And know no cunse wherefore.

Wherto Shuld I Expresse

Wherto shuld I expresse
My inward hevynes?
No myrth can make me fayn
Tyl that we mete agayne.

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