LENTEN ys come with love to toune, 
With blosmen ant with briddes roune, 
   That al this blisse bryngeth; 
Dayes-eyes in this dales, 
Notes suete of nyhtegales, 
   Vch foul song singeth; 
The threstlecoc him threteth oo, 
Away is huere wynter wo, 
   When woderove springeth; 
This foules singeth ferly fele, 
Ant wlyteth on huere winter wele, 
   That al the wode ryngeth. 

The rose rayleth hire rode, 
The leves on the lyhte wode 
   Waxen al with wille; 
The mone mandeth hire bleo, 
The lilie is lossom to seo, 
   The fenyl ant the fille; 
Wowes this wilde drakes, 
Miles murgeth huere makes; 
   Ase strem that striketh stille, 
Mody meneth; so doth mo 
(Ichot ycham on of tho) 
   For loue that likes ille. 

The mone mandeth hire lyht, 
So doth the semly sonne bryht. 
   When briddes singeth breme; 
Deowes donketh the dounes, 
Deores with huere derne rounes 
   Domes forte deme; 
Wormes woweth under cloude, 
Wymmen waxeth wounder proude, 
   So wel hit wol hem seme, 
Yef me shal wonte wille of on, 
This wunne weole y wole forgon 
   Ant wyht in wode be fleme.