Go, Burning Sighs by Thomas Wyatt

Go, burning sighs, unto the frozen heart,
Go break the ice which pity's painful dart
Might never pierce; and if mortal prayer
In heaven may be heard, at least yet I desire
That death or mercy be end of my smart.
Take with thee pain whereof I have my part,
And eke the flame from which I cannot start,
And leave me then in rest I you require.
Go, burning sighs.

I must go work I see by craft and art,
For truth and faith in her is laid apart.
Alas, I cannot therefore assail her,
With pitiful complaint and scalding fire,
That from my breast doth strainably start.
Go, burning sighs.

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