Geoffrey Chaucer

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

Geoffrey Chaucer Poems

41. Troilus And Criseyde: Book 03 1/13/2003
42. Troilus And Criseyde: Book 05 1/13/2003
43. Troilus And Criseyde: Book 04 1/13/2003
44. Proverbs Of Chaucer 12/31/2002
45. Troilus And Criseyde: Book 01 1/13/2003
46. Controlling the Tongue - 3/25/2016
47. The Parlement Of Fowls 1/1/2004
48. The House Of Fame 5/14/2001
49. Virelay 12/31/2002
50. Anelida And Arcite 5/13/2001
51. A Rondel Of Merciless Beauty - The Original 4/5/2010
52. Chaucer's Prophecy 12/31/2002
53. L'Envoy Of Chaucer To Bukton 12/31/2002
54. Chaucers Wordes Unto Adam 5/13/2001
55. An Abc 5/13/2001
56. The Love Unfeigned 1/4/2003
57. Balade 1/4/2003
58. La Priere De Nostre Dame 12/31/2002
59. Proverbs 5/13/2001
60. Merciles Beaute 1/4/2003
61. Book Of The Duchesse 5/13/2001
62. Against Women Unconstant 12/31/2002
63. The Canterbury Tales 5/13/2001
64. Lak Of Stedfastnesse 5/13/2001
65. Gentilesse 5/13/2001
66. A Ballad Sent To King Richard 12/31/2002
67. Good Counsel Of Chaucer 12/31/2002
68. Roundel 12/31/2002
69. Chaucer's Words To His Scrivener 1/3/2003
70. Fortune 5/13/2001
71. A Balade Of Complaint 5/13/2001
72. Truth 12/31/2002
73. A Ballad Of Gentleness 12/31/2002
74. Rondel Of Merciless Beauty 12/31/2002
Best Poem of Geoffrey Chaucer

Rondel Of Merciless Beauty

Your two great eyes will slay me suddenly;
Their beauty shakes me who was once serene;
Straight through my heart the wound is quick and keen.

Only your word will heal the injury
To my hurt heart, while yet the wound is clean -
Your two great eyes will slay me suddenly;
Their beauty shakes me who was once serene.

Upon my word, I tell you faithfully
Through life and after death you are my queen;
For with my death the whole truth shall be seen.
Your two great eyes will slay me suddenly;
Their beauty shakes me who was once serene;
Straight through my ...

Read the full of Rondel Of Merciless Beauty

Book Of The Duchesse

THE PROEM

I have gret wonder, be this lighte,
How that I live, for day ne nighte
I may nat slepe wel nigh noght,
I have so many an ydel thoght
Purely for defaute of slepe
That, by my trouthe, I take no kepe
Of no-thing, how hit cometh or goth,

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