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I find no
peace, and all my war is done.
I fear and hope. I
burn and freeze like ice.
I fly above the wind, yet
can I not arise;
And nought I have, and all the world
I season.
That loseth nor locketh holdeth me in
prison
And holdeth me not--yet can I scape no wise--
Nor letteth me live nor die at my device,
And
yet of death it giveth me occasion.
Without eyen I
see, and without tongue I plain.
I desire to perish,
and yet I ask health.
I love another, and thus I hate
myself.
I feed me in sorrow and laugh in all my pain;
Likewise displeaseth me both life and death,
And my
delight is causer of this strife.
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