What Is Heaven? Poem by Richard Rolle

Ther is lyf withoute ony deth,
And ther is youthe without ony elde;
And ther is alle manner welthe to welde:
And ther is rest without ony travaille;
And ther is pees without ony strife,
And ther is alle manner lykinge of lyf:-
And ther is bright somer ever to se,
And there is nevere wynter in that countrie:-
And ther is more worshipe and honour,
Than ever hade kynge, other emperour.
And ther is grete melodie of angeles songe,
And ther is pressing hem amonge.
And ther is all manner frendshipe that may be,
And ther is ever perfect love without charite;
And ther is wisdom without folye
Ans ther is honeste without vileneye.
Al thes a man may joyes of hevene call:
Ac yutte the most sovereyn joye of alle
Is the sighte of Goddes bright face,
In wham resteth alle manere grace.