Lenten is come with loue to toune,With blosmen and with briddes roune That al this blisse bryngeth.Dayeseyes in this dales,Notes suete of nyhtegales, Vch foul song syngeth.The threstelcoc him threteth oo.Away is huere wynter woo When woderoue springeth.This foules syngeth ferly feleAnt wlyteth on huere wynter wele That al the wode ryngeth.
The rose rayleth hire rode.The leues on the lyhte wode Waxen al wyth wylle.The mone mandeth hire bleo.The lilie is lossom to seo, The fenyl and the fille.Wowes this wilde drakes.Miles murgeth huere makes, Ase strem that striketh stilleMody meneth, so doh mo.Ichot ycham on of tho, For loue that likes ille.
The mone mandeth hire lyht,So doth the semly sonne bryht, When briddes syngeth breme.Deawes donketh the dounes.Deores with huere derne rounes Domes forte deme.Wormes woweth vnder cloude.Wymmen waxeth wounder proude, So wel hit wol hem seme.Yef me shal wonte wille of onThis wunne weole Y wole forgon Ant wyht in wode be fleme.
