FAIN would I change that note
To which fond Love hath charm'd me
Long, long to sing by rote,
Fancying that that harm'd me:
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SUMER is icumen in,
Lhude sing cuccu!
Groweth sed, and bloweth med,
And springth the wude nu--
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LESTENYT, lordynges, both elde and yinge,
How this rose began to sprynge;
Swych a rose to myn lykynge
In al this word ne knowe I non.
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MARTIAL, the things that do attain
The happy life be these, I find:--
The richesse left, not got with pain;
The fruitful ground, the quiet mind;
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"If all the world were paper
And all the sea were ink,
If all the trees were bread and cheese
What would we do for drink?
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THIS ae nighte, this ae nighte,
--Every nighte and alle,
Fire and fleet and candle-lighte,
And Christe receive thy saule.
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At liberty I sit and see
Them, that have erst laugh'd me to scorn,
Whipp'd with the whip that scourged me:
And now they ban that they were born.
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O MY deir hert, young Jesus sweit,
Prepare thy creddil in my spreit,
And I sall rock thee in my hert
And never mair from thee depart.
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All night I muse, all day I cry,
Ay me!
Yet still I wish, though still deny,
Ay me!
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WYNTER wakeneth al my care,
Nou this leves waxeth bare;
Ofte I sike ant mourne sare
When hit cometh in my thoht
...