Now welcome, somer, with thy sonne soft{.e},
That hast this wintr{.e}s wedr{.e}s overshak{.e},
And driven away the long{.e} nyght{.e}s blak{.e}!
Saynt Valentyn, that art ful hy on-lofte,
Thus syngen smal{.e} foul{.e}s for thy sak{.e}:
Now welcome, somer, with thy sonn{.e} soft{.e},
That hast this wintr{.e}s wedr{.e}s overshak{.e}.
Wel han they caus{.e} for to gladen oft{.e},
Sith ech of hem recover{.e}d hath hys mak{.e};
Ful blissful mowe they syng{.e} when they wak{.e}:
Now welcome, somer, with thy sonn{.e} soft{.e}
That hast this wintr{.e}s wedr{.e}s overshak{.e}
And driven away the long{.e} nyght{.e}s blak{.e}!
(Geoffrey Chaucer)
More Poetry from Geoffrey Chaucer:
- Complaint unto Pity, The (Geoffrey Chaucer Poems)
- Complaint of Chaucer to his Purse, The (Geoffrey Chaucer Poems)
- A Balade of Complaint (Geoffrey Chaucer Poems)
- Chaucers Wordes unto Adam (Geoffrey Chaucer Poems)
- Anelida and Arcite (Geoffrey Chaucer Poems)
- The Canterbury Tales; CHAUCER'S TALE OF SIR THOPAS (Geoffrey Chaucer Poems)