Classic Poem

CLXXV

Patience of all my smart
For Fortune is turned awry!
Patience must ease my heart
That mourns continually.
Patience to suffer wrong
Is a patience too long.

Patience to have a nay
Of that I most desire!
Patience to have alway
And ever burn like fire!
Patience without desert
Is grounder of my smart.

Who can with merry heart
Set forth some pleasant song
That always feels but smart
And never hath but wrong?
Yet patience evermore
Must heal the wound and sore.

Patience to be content
With froward Fortune's train!
Patience to the intent
Somewhat to slake my pain!
I see no remedy
But suffer patiently.

To plain where is none ear
My chance is chanced so,
For it doth well appear
My friend is turned my foe.
But since there is no defence
I must take patience.