The Long Love that in my Thought doth Harbour

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The longë love that in my thought doth harbourAnd in mine hert doth keep his residence,Into my face presseth with bold pretenceAnd therein campeth, spreading his banner.She that me learneth to love and sufferAnd will that my trust and lustës negligenceBe rayned by reason, shame, and reverence,With his hardiness taketh displeasure.Wherewithall unto the hert's forest he fleeth,Leaving his enterprise with pain and cry,And there him hideth and not appeareth.What may I do when my master fearethBut in the field with him to live and die?For good is the life ending faithfully.

© Sir Thomas Wyatt