My labor that thou and I shall waste <br />And end that I have now begun, <br />For when this song is sung and past, <br />My lute, be still, for I have done. <br /> <br />As to be heard where ear is none, <br />As lead to grave in marble stone, <br />My song may pierce her heart as soon. <br />Should we then sigh or sing or moan? <br />No, no, my lute, for I have done. <br /> <br />Proud of the spoil that thou hast got <br />Of simple hearts through love's shot, <br />By whom, unkind, thou hast them won, <br />Think not he hath his bow forgot, <br />Although my lute and I have done. <br /> <br />Vengance shall fall on thy disdain <br />That makest but game on earnest pain; <br />Think not alone under the sun <br />Unquit to cause thy lovers plain <br />Although my lute and I have done. <br /> <br />Perchance thee lie withered and old <br />The winter nights that are so cold, <br />Plaining in vain unto the moon; <br />Thy wishes then dare not be told. <br />Care then who list, for I have done. <br /> <br />And then may chance thee to repent <br />The time that thou hast lost and spnt <br />To cause thy lovers sigh and swoon; <br />Then shalt thou know beauty but lent, <br />And wish and want as I have done. <br /> <br />Now cease, my lute, this is the last <br />Labor that thou and I shall waste <br />And ended is that we begun. <br />Now is the song both sung and past; <br />My lute, be still, for I have done.<br /><br />Sir Thomas Wyatt<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/my-lute-awake-2/