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My Lute Awake

Rating: 3.4
My lute awake! perform the last
Labour that thou and I shall waste,
And end that I have now begun;
For when this song is sung and past,
My lute be still, for I have done.

As to be heard where ear is none,
As lead to grave in marble stone,
My song may pierce her heart as soon;
Should we then sigh or sing or moan?
No, no, my lute, for I have done.
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I love poems thanks for sharing.Thomas Wyatt poems n earl of surrey
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Latha Govindasamy 19 May 2016
This is great one thought provoking and good creations!
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Now cease, my lute; this is the last Labour that thou and I shall waste, And ended is that we begun. Now is this song both sung and past: My lute be still, for I have done. Nice work. Enjoyed the poem. Thanks for sharing the poem. Subhas
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Edward Kofi Louis 19 May 2016
To perform the last labour! ! Nice piece of work.
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Daniel Brick 28 July 2014
This is a poem of despair in a double sense: The poet has despaired of the possibility of happiness in love with his true love, and he will give up music, poetry and performance because they would not sway her.So he is announcing publicly he is giving up both love and art. Renaissance poets were always dramatizing their emotions in a very public way. But as Hamlet affirmed, I HAVE THAT WITHIN WHICH PASSETH SHOW.
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Ramesh T A 27 July 2010
Pleading of lover goes to deaf ears it seems! But the lute he has played will linger on after him too! The pain he has suffered she may suffer later! Such a hard rock against which waves are dashing in vain! Stanzas are well organised to write this poem but message is not great enough to cause great effect to the readers!
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Joseph Poewhit 27 July 2010
Each person plays their song in life. The lute being a gift of GOD. Then the music ends one day.
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Michael Pruchnicki 27 July 2009
The complete title of Wyatt's 8 stanza poem is 'The Lover Complaineth the Unkindness of His Love.' To me both the form and style suggest the courtier who is complaining as he strums his lute about how his mistress has treated him. She ignores his songs of love. She is a rock that rejects the overtures of the seas of love that dash against her stoniness! My lute and I are fed up, darling! You will pay the price of your disdain one day! You will be ignored by all your suitors as you age and decline in beauty and charm. Cold winter nights are in the offing, my dear! Mark my words, I will be revenged! You'll feel what I've felt these many years! My lute and I will be silent forevermore! I'm done with you!
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Kevin Straw 27 July 2009
There is something a little too manufactured about this poem - one gets the impression of a poet more concerned with the form he has chosen then matching that form to its content.
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