Alone walking
In thought plaining,
And sore sighing;
All desolate,
Me rememb’ring
Of my living;
My death wishing
Both early and late.
Infortunate
Is so my fate,
That, wot ye what?
Out of measure
My life I hate;
Thus desperate,
In such poor estate,
Do I endure.
Of other cure
Am I not sure;
Thus to endure
Is hard, certain;
Such is my ure,
I you ensure;
What creature
May have more pain?
My truth so plain
Is taken in vain,
And great disdain
In remembrance;
Yet I full fain
Would me complain,
Me to abstain
From this penance.
But, in substance,
None alleggeance
Of my grievance
Can I not find;
Right so my chance,
With displeasance,
Doth me advance;
And thus an end.
(Geoffrey Chaucer)
More Poetry from Geoffrey Chaucer:
Geoffrey Chaucer Poems based on Topics: Fate & Destiny, Mind, Pain, Thought & Thinking, Hatred, Chance- Complaint unto Pity, The (Geoffrey Chaucer Poems)
- Complaint of Chaucer to his Purse, The (Geoffrey Chaucer Poems)
- A Balade of Complaint (Geoffrey Chaucer Poems)
- Chaucers Wordes unto Adam (Geoffrey Chaucer Poems)
- The Canterbury Tales; CHAUCER'S TALE OF SIR THOPAS (Geoffrey Chaucer Poems)
- Anelida and Arcite (Geoffrey Chaucer Poems)
Readers Who Like This Poem Also Like:
Based on Topics: Mind Poems, Thought & Thinking Poems, Pain Poems, Fate & Destiny Poems, Hatred Poems, Chance PoemsBased on Keywords: rememb, ensure, plaining, grievance, ure, infortunate