I ne have joy, plesauns, nor comfort

I ne have joy, plesauns, nor comfort,
In youre absens, my verrey hertes quene.
What other men think joy or disport,
To me it nis but anger or tene;
If that I laugh, it is but on the splene.
Thus make I a gladful sorry chere,
So noyth me the absens of my verrey lady dere.
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