Good Counsel Of Chaucer Poem by Geoffrey Chaucer

Good Counsel Of Chaucer

Rating: 2.9


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 OF THE POEM
Kim Barney 05 June 2015

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

2 2 Reply
Rajnish Manga 05 June 2015

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.

2 0 Reply
Edward Kofi Louis 05 June 2015

Soothfastness. Nice work.

0 0 Reply
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