Lenten ys come with love to toune

From Wikisource
Jump to: navigation, search

Lenten ys come with love to toune,
With blosmen and with briddes roune,
  That al this blisse bryngeth;
Dayes-eyes in this dales,
Notes suete of nyhtegales,
  Uch foul song singeth;
The threstelcoc him threth oo,
Away is huere wynter wo,
  When woderove springeth;
Thise foules singeth ferly fele,
Ant wlyteth on huere wunne wele,
  That al the wode ryngeth.

The rose rayleth hire rode,
The leves on the lyhte wode
  Waxen al with wille;
The mone mandeth hire bleo,
The lilie is lossom to seo,
  The fenyl and the fille;
Wowes thise wilde drakes,
Miles murgeth huere makes
  Ase strem that striketh stille.
Mody meneth; so doth mo
(Ichot ych am on of tho)
  For loue that likes ille.

The mone mandeth hire lyht,
So doth the semly sonne bryht,
  When briddes singeth breme;
Deawes donketh the dounes,
Deores with huere derne rounes
  Domes for to deme;
Wormes woweth under cloude,
Wymmen waxeth wounder proude,
  So wel hit wol hem seme,
Yef me shal wonte wille of on,
This wunne weole y wole forgon
  Ant wyht in wode be fleme.