Look Up On High, And Thank The

Mercy Surpasses Justice.

The Proverbe Saith That Many A Smale Maketh A Grate.

Of Alle The Floures In The Mede, Than Love I Most These Floures Whyte And Rede, Swiche As Men Callen Daysies In Our Toun. . . . . Til That Myn Herte Dye. . . . . That Wel By Reson Men Hit Calle May The 'dayesye' Or Elles The 'ye Of Day,' The Emperice And Flour Of Floures Alle. I Pray To God That Faire Mot She Falle, And Alle That Loven Floures, For Hir Sake!

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

Ek Gret Effect Men Write In Place Lite; Th'entente Is Al, And Nat The Lettres Space.