Classic Poem

Now in this mirthfull tyme of May
My dullit spreit for to rejos,
I sall with sobir mynd assay
Gif I can ocht in metir glos,
Syn all the poyntis of my purpois
In secreit wyis sal be asselyeit,
How in my garth thair growis a rois,
Wes fresche and fair, and now is felyeit.

All winttir throcht this ros wes reid,
And now in May it changis hew;
Thairfoir I trow that it be deid,
And als the stak that it on grew.
Suld I for plesour plant a new?
Na! — that I vow to God in plane:
Said it fair-weill, all flouris adew,
Bot gif that rois revert agane,

For of all plesans to my sycht
That grew on grund, it beris the gre.
My hairt wes on that day and nycht,
It wes so plesand for to se.
Now thair is nowdir erb nor tre
Sall grow within my garding mair,
Quhill I get wit quhat gart it de,
This foirsaid flour that wes so fair.