Compleyne ne koude, ne might myn herte never, <br />My peynes halve, ne what torment I have, <br />Though that I sholde in your presence ben ever, <br />Myn hertes lady, as wisly he me save <br />That Bountee made, and Beautee list to grave <br />In your persone, and bad hem bothe in-fere <br />Ever t'awayte, and ay be wher ye were. <br /> <br />As wisly he gye alle my joyes here <br />As I am youres, and to yow sad and trewe, <br />And ye, my lyf and cause of my gode chere, <br />And deeth also, whan ye my peynes newe, <br />My worldes joye, whom I wol serve and sewe, <br />Myn heven hool, and al my suffisaunce, <br />Whom for to serve is set al my plesaunce. <br /> <br />Beseching yow in my most humble wyse <br />T'accepte in worth this litel pore dyte, <br />And for my trouthe my servyce not despyse, <br />Myn observaunce eke have not in despyte, <br />Ne yit to longe to suffren in this plyte; <br />I yow beseche, myn hertes lady, here, <br />Sith I yow serve, and so wil yeer by yere.<br /><br />Geoffrey Chaucer<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-balade-of-complaint/
