(in homage to Thomas Wyatt, who witnessed, as a prisoner of the tower for other displeasures, her execution through the gratings)
that i should know you sorrow
blame not my lute*
now this is the moon´s morrow,
now that i am smitten
my heart´s love stolen
nor kiss of mine so fallen
the gloaming glamour gone.
blame not my lute
that still to the moon strings song
to all his loves who´ve flown
& plays to the moon alone
blame not my lute.
* CXV Devonshire Manuscript.
Copyright Robin Ouzman Hislop 2004
all rights reserved
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|Reviewed by Marilyn Seray
|Great poetry, glad I stopped by|
|Reviewed by Jane Rodway
|Reviewed by jude forese
|well penned ... interesting bit of history ...|
|Reviewed by Patricia Gomes
|The title caught my eye; the poem held me spellbound. Excellent work!|
|Reviewed by Andre Bendavi ben-YEHU
This poem took me through the English Chronicles…
This is an outstanding poetic writing prodding the stallion of history.
I salute You, Sublime Poet!
Andre Emmanuel Bendavi ben-YEHU
|Reviewed by Lori Moore
|Reviewed by Susan de Vegter
|Haunting unto this afternoon. The canvas is crying with this write.
sad but moving poetry.