Alone walking <br />In thought plaining, <br />And sore sighing; <br />All desolate, <br />Me rememb'ring <br />Of my living; <br />My death wishing <br />Both early and late. <br /> <br />Infortunate <br />Is so my fate, <br />That, wot ye what? <br />Out of measure <br />My life I hate; <br />Thus desperate, <br />In such poor estate, <br />Do I endure. <br /> <br />Of other cure <br />Am I not sure; <br />Thus to endure <br />Is hard, certain; <br />Such is my ure, <br />I you ensure; <br />What creature <br />May have more pain? <br /> <br />My truth so plain <br />Is taken in vain, <br />And great disdain <br />In remembrance; <br />Yet I full fain <br />Would me complain, <br />Me to abstain <br />From this penance. <br /> <br />But, in substance, <br />None alleggeance <br />Of my grievance <br />Can I not find; <br />Right so my chance, <br />With displeasance, <br />Doth me advance; <br />And thus an end.<br /><br />Geoffrey Chaucer<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/virelay/
