Lenten ys come with love to toune, <br />With blosmen and with briddes roune, <br />That al this blisse bryngeth; <br />Dayes-eyes in this dales, <br />Notes suete of nyhtegales, <br />Uch foul song singeth; <br />The threstelcoc him threteth oo, <br />Away is huere wynter wo, <br />When woderove springeth; <br />Thise foules singeth ferly fele, <br />Ant wlyteth on huere wunne wele, <br />That all the wode ryngeth. <br /> <br />The rose rayleth hire rode, <br />The leves on the lyhte wode <br />Waxen al with wille; <br />The mone mandeth hire bleo, <br />The lilie is lossom to seo, <br />The fenyl and the fille; <br />Wowes thise wilde drakes, <br />Miles murgeth huere makes <br />Ase strem that striketh stille. <br />Mody meneth; so doth mo <br />(Ichot ych am on of tho) <br />For loue that likes ille. <br /> <br />The mone mandeth hire lygt, <br />So doth the semly sonne bryht, <br />When briddes singeth breme; <br />Deawes donketh the dounes, <br />Deores with huere derne rounes <br />Domes for to deme; <br />Wormes woweth under cloude, <br />Wymmen waxeth wounder proude, <br />So wel hit wol hem seme, <br />Yef me shal wonte wille of on, <br />This wunne weole y wole forgon <br />Ant wyht in wode be fleme.<br /><br />Anonymous Olde English<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/spring-tide/
