Love-despondency Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

Rhyme Scheme: AABACC ADAEEE AEAEEE EAEAEE AECEEE AEAEAA CECEAA AAAAEE FGAGEE EEEECC HAHFEE A

Devyde my tymes and rate my wretched howresA
From days to months fro months to many yeersA
And than compare my sweetest to my sowres thenB
And see wich more in equall vewe appearesA
And judge that from my dayes and yeers of careC
I have but howrs of comforte to compareC
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Just and not muche it were in thes extreamsA
To have a touche and torment of ye thoughtD
For any myghte that any ryght esteemsA
To yealde so small delyght so deerly boughtE
But he that lyues unto his owne despyghteE
Is not to fynde his fortune by his ryghteE
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The lyfe that styll runs forth his weary wayesA
With sowre to sawce the dayntyes of delyghtE
And care to choak the pleasures of his dayesA
And not regarde the many wronges to quyteE
No blame to houlde such ircksome tymes in hateE
As but to lose prolongs a wretched stateE
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And still I loathe eve to behoulde the lyghteE
That shynes wthout all pleasure to myne eyesA
Wth greedy wishe I wayte for wearye nyghteE
Yet neither this I fynde that maye suffyseA
Not that I hould the daye for more delyghteE
But that alyke I loathe both daye and nyghteE
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The daye I se yeelds but increase of caresA
The nyght that should by nature serve for resteE
Agaynst his kynde denyes suche ease to spareC
As pytty woulde afforde the soule opprestE
And broken sleeps oft tymes presents in syghtE
A dreaminge wishe beguylde with false delyghteE
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This sleepe or else what so for sweet appeersA
Is unto me but pleasures in despyghteE
The flower of age the name of younger yeeresA
Do but usurpe the tytle of delyghteE
But careful thoughts and Sorrowe sundry waysA
Consumes my youthe before my ag d dayesA
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The touch the stynge the torments of desyreC
To stryue beyond the compase of restraynteE
Kepte from the reache whereto it would aspyreC
Geues cause God knowes too iust to my coplainteE
Besydes the wronge wch worketh my distressA
My meaninge is with sylence to suppressA
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Oft wth myselfe I enter in deuyseA
To reconsylle these wearye thoughtes to peaceA
I treate for truce I flatter and entyceA
My wranglynge wytts to work for theyr releaseA
But all in vayne I seek the means to fyndeE
That myght appease the discorde of my myndeE
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For when I force a fayn d mirth to showeF
And would forgett and so beguyll my greefeG
I cannot rydd my selfe of sorrowe soA
Althoughe I feed upon a false beleefeG
For inward touche of discontented myndeE
Retournes my cares by course unto theyr kyndeE
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Wean'd from my will and thus by tryall taughteE
Howe farr to hould all fortune in regardeE
Though here I boaste of knowledge deerely boughteE
Yet thys poore gayne I reape for my rewardeE
I knowe hereby to harde and prepareC
A ready mynde for all assaults of careC
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Whereto as one eve from the cradle borneH
And not to look for better to ensueA
I yeald my selfe and wish these tymes outworneH
That but remayne my torments to reneweF
And leaue to those these dayes of my despyghteE
Whose better hap may lyue to more delyghteE
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FinisA

Sir Edward Dyer



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