What Needeth These Threat'ning Words

Sir Thomas Wyatt

What needeth these threnning words and wasted wind?
All this cannot make me restore my prey.
To rob your good, iwis, is not my mind,
Nor causeless your fair hand did I display. 
Let love be judge or else whom next we meet 
That may both hear what you and I can say: 
She took from me an heart, and I a glove from her.
Let us see now if th'one be worth th'other.

Next 10 Poems

• Sir Thomas Wyatt : What Should I Say
• Sir Thomas Wyatt : Whoso List To Hunt, I Know Where Is An Hind
• Sir Thomas Wyatt : Ye Old Mule
• William Butler Yeats : 9/1/1913
• William Butler Yeats : A Bronze Head
• William Butler Yeats : A Coat
• William Butler Yeats : A Cradle Song
• William Butler Yeats : A Crazed Girl
• William Butler Yeats : A Deep Sworn Vow
• William Butler Yeats : A Dialogue Of Self And Soul

Previous 10 Poems

• Sir Thomas Wyatt : Vixi Puellis Nuper Idoneus
• Sir Thomas Wyatt : Unstable Dream
• Sir Thomas Wyatt : To His Lute
• Sir Thomas Wyatt : They Flee From Me
• Sir Thomas Wyatt : The Long Love That In My Thought Doth Harbour
• Sir Thomas Wyatt : The Heart And Service
• Sir Thomas Wyatt : The Appeal
• Sir Thomas Wyatt : Since So Ye Please
• Sir Thomas Wyatt : Of The Mean And Sure Estate Written To John Poins
• Sir Thomas Wyatt : My Lute Awake