Geoffrey Chaucer

(c. 1343 – 25 October 1400 / London, England)

Good Counsel Of Chaucer - Poem by Geoffrey Chaucer

Flee from the press, and dwell with soothfastness;
Suffice thee thy good, though it be small;
For hoard hath hate, and climbing tickleness,
Press hath envy, and weal is blent o'er all,
Savour no more than thee behove shall;
Read well thyself, that other folk canst read;
And truth thee shall deliver, it is no dread.

Paine thee not each crooked to redress,
In trust of her that turneth as a ball;
Great rest standeth in little business:
Beware also to spurn against a nail;
Strive not as doth a crocke with a wall;
Deeme thyself that deemest others' deed,
And truth thee shall deliver, it is no dread.

What thee is sent, receive in buxomness;
The wrestling of this world asketh a fall;
Here is no home, here is but wilderness.
Forth, pilgrim! Forthe beast, out of thy stall!
Look up on high, and thank thy God of all!
Weive thy lust, and let thy ghost thee lead,
And truth thee shall deliver, it is no dread.


Comments about Good Counsel Of Chaucer by Geoffrey Chaucer

  • Susan Williams Susan Williams (3/24/2016 3:39:00 PM)

    Flee from the crowd and dwell with truthfulness;
    Suffice thee with thy goods, tho' they be small:
    To hoard brings hate, to climb brings giddiness;
    The crowd has envy, and success blinds all;
    Desire no more than to thy lot may fall;
    Work well thyself to counsel others clear,
    And Truth shall make thee free, there is no fear!
    Torment thee not all crooked to redress,
    Nor put thy trust in fortune's turning ball;
    Great peace is found in little busy-ness,
    And war but kicks against a sharpened awl;
    Strive not, thou earthen pot, to break the wall;
    Subdue thyself, and others thee shall hear;
    And Truth shall make thee free, there is no fear!
    What God doth send, receive in gladsomeness;
    To wrestle for this world foretells a fall.
    Here is no home, here is but wilderness:
    Forth, pilgrim, forth; up, beast, and leave thy stall!
    Know thy country, look up, thank God for all:
    Hold the high way, thy soul the pioneer,
    And Truth shall make thee free, there is no fear!
    Therefore, poor beast, forsake thy wretchedness;
    No longer let the vain world be thy stall.
    His mercy seek who in his mightiness
    Made thee of naught, but not to be a thrall.
    Pray freely for thyself and pray for all
    Who long for larger life and heavenly cheer;
    And Truth shall make thee free, there is no fear!
    http: //pricelesspoetryandprose.com/ppp-counsel.htm (Report) Reply

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  • Kim Barney (6/5/2015 9:44:00 AM)

    It is no dread;
    so the man said,
    but it is a crime
    to waste my time
    struggling to read
    these old words indeed. (Report) Reply

  • Rajnish Manga Rajnish Manga (6/5/2015 7:10:00 AM)

    Each one of the lines of this poem leads us to the virtues of righteousness. I recall the following ones: Savour no more than thee behove shall; / Read well thyself, that other folk canst read; / And truth thee shall deliver, it is no dread. (Report) Reply

  • Edward Kofi Louis Edward Kofi Louis (6/5/2015 5:25:00 AM)

    Soothfastness. Nice work. (Report) Reply

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Read poems about / on: truth, lust, trust, hate, home, god, world, thanks



Poem Submitted: Tuesday, December 31, 2002



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