If Love Be Good, From Whence Cometh

Mordre Wol Out, That Se We Day By Day.

Til That The Brighte Sonne Loste His Hewe; For Th'orisonte Hath Reft The Sonne His Lyght; This Is As Muche To Seye As It Was Nyght!

I Am Not The Rose, But I Have Lived Near The Rose.

And Gladly Would He Learn, And Gladly Teach

Soun Is Noght But Air Ybroken, And Every Speche That Is Spoken, Loud Or Privee, Foul Or Fair, In His Substaunce Is But Air; For As Flaumbe Is But Lighted Smoke, Right So Soun Is Air Ybroke.