by Geoffrey Chaucer
from The General Prologue Whan that Aprill with his showres soote the droughte of March hath perced to the roote, And bathed every veine in swich licour, Of which vertu engendred is the flowr; Whan Zephyrus eek with his sweete breeth Inspired hath in every holt and heeth The tendre croppes, and the yonge sonne Hath in the Ram his halve cours yronne, And smale fowles maken melodye That sleepen al the night with open y?- So priketh hem Nature in hir corages- Thanne longen folk to goon on pilgrimages, And palmeres for to seeken straunge strondes To ferne halwes, couthe in sondry londes; And specially from every shires ende Of Engelonde to Canterbury they wende, The holy blisful martyr for to seeke That hem hath holpen whan that they were seke.
|