Daily Poetry Readings #15: Two Poems by Sir Thomas Wyatt read by Dr Iain McGilchrist

Part 15 of a daily series of readings of his favourite poetry by Dr Iain McGilchrist, author of The Master and His Emissary. Today's poems are They Flee From Me and There Was Never Nothing More Me Pain'd by Sir Thomas Wyatt.
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~ They Flee From Me by Sir Thomas Wyatt ~
They flee from me that sometime did me seek
With naked foot, stalking in my chamber.
I have seen them gentle, tame, and meek,
That now are wild and do not remember
That sometime they put themself in danger
To take bread at my hand; and now they range,
Busily seeking with a continual change.
Thanked be fortune it hath been otherwise
Twenty times better; but once in special,
In thin array after a pleasant guise,
When her loose gown from her shoulders did fall,
And she me caught in her arms long and small;
Therewithall sweetly did me kiss
And softly said, “Dear heart, how like you this?”
It was no dream: I lay broad waking.
But all is turned thorough my gentleness
Into a strange fashion of forsaking;
And I have leave to go of her goodness,
And she also, to use newfangleness.
But since that I so kindly am served
I would fain know what she hath deserved.
~ There Was Never Nothing More Me Pain'd by Sir Thomas Wyatt ~
There was never nothing more me pain'd
Nor more my pity mov'd,
As when my sweetheart her complain'd,
That ever she me lov'd.
Alas! the while!
With piteous look she said, and sight,
Alas! what aileth me?
To love, and set my wealth so light,
On him that loveth not me;
Alas! the while!
Was I not well void of all pain,
When that nothing me griev'd?
And now with sorrows I must complain,
And cannot be reliev'd,
Alas ! the while!
My restful nights, and joyful days,
Since I began to love
Be take from me; all thing decays,
Yet can I not remove,
Alas ! the while!
She wept and wrung her hands withal,
The tears fell in my neck:
She turned her face, and let it fall;
And scarce therewith could speak:
Alas! the while!
Her pains tormented me so sore
That comfort had I none,
But cursed my fortune more and more
To see her sob and groan,
Alas! the while!

[@tungstenseabass]

I first encountered Wyatt in "The Master and His Emissary." Wonderful to hear these read aloud and be able to appreciate the uneven, yet musical, rhythm of them.

[@stephenl9463]

Me too. Afterwards, I found Wyatt's poem, 'Innocence, Truth, and Faith', written after witnessing the execution of Anne Boleyn. The cutting line, 'circa Regna tonat' (It thunders through the realm), cracks at the end of each stanza, and is very powerful in the context.