Classic Poem

With longing I am lad—
On molde I waxe mad—
A maide marreth me;
I grede, I grone, unglad,
For selden I am sad
That semly for to see.
Levedy, thou rewe me!
To routhe thou havest me rad.
Be bote of that I bad;
My lif is long on thee.

Levedy of all londe,
Les me out of bonde.
Broght ich am in wo;
Have resting on honde,
And send thou me thy sonde
Sone, er thou me slo.
My reste is with the ro;
Thagh men to me han onde,
To love nuly noght wonde
Ne lete for non of tho.

Levedy, with all my might
My love is on thee light,
To menske when I may;
Thou rew and red me right,
To dethe thou havest me dight;
I deye longe er my day.
Thou leve upon my lay;
Treuthe ich have thee plight,
To don that ich have hight
Whil my lif leste may.

Lilie-whit he is:
Hire rode so rose on ris,
That reveth me my rest;
Wimmon war and wis,
Of prude he bereth the pris,
Burde on of the best.
This wommon woneth by west,
Brightest under bis;
Hevene I tolde all his,
That o night were hire guest.

With longing I am lad,
On molde I waxe mad:
A maide marreth me.
I grede, I grone unglad;
For selden I am sad
That seemly for to see.
Levedy, thou rewe me!
To routhe thou havest me rad;
Be bote of that I bad;
My lif is long on thee.

Levedy of alle londe,
Les me out of bonde;
Brought ich am in wo.
Have resting on honde
And send thou me thy sonde
Soone, er thou me slo;
My rest is with the ro.
Though men to me han onde,
To love n'il I nought wonde
Ne lete for non of tho.

Levedy, with al my might
My love is on thee light,
To menske when I may.
Thou rew and reed me right.
To dethe thou havest me dight:
I deye longe er my day—
Thou leve upon my lay.
Treuthe ich have thee plight
To don that ich have hight
Whil my lif laste may.

Lilie-whit heo is,
Hir rode so rose on ris,
That reveth me my rest.
Womman war and wis,
Of pride heo bereth the pris,
Burde one of the best.
This womman woneth by west,
Brightest under bis;
Heven I tolde al his
That o night were hir gest.