FLORA DOMESTIC A. 



As soone as ever the sunne ginneth west, 

 To seen this floure, how it woll go to rest, 

 For feare of night, so hateth she darkenesse, 

 Her chere is plainly spred in the brightnesse 

 Of the sunne, for there it woll unclose : 



***** 

 My husie ghost, that thursteth alway new, 

 To seen this floure so yong, so fresh of hew, 

 Constrained me with so gredy desire, 

 That in my haste, I fele yet the fire, 

 That made me rise ere it were day 

 And this was now the first morowe of Maie, 

 With dreadfull herte, and glad devocion 

 For to been at the resurrection 

 Of this floure, whan that it should unclose. 

 Again the sunne, that rose as redde as rose, 

 That in the brest was of the beast that day 

 That Angenores daughter ladde away. 

 And doune on knees anon right I me sette, 

 And as I coulde, this fresh floure I grette, 

 Kneeling alway till it unclosed was, 

 Upon the small soft swete grass, 

 That was with floures swete embrouded all, 

 Of such sweteness, and odour over all, 

 That for to speak of gomme, herbe, or tree, 

 Comparison may not imaked be, 

 For it surmounteth plainly all odoures, 

 And of riche beaute of floures. 



***** 

 And Zephyrus and Flora gentelly 

 Yave to the floures soft and tenderly, 

 Hir swete breth, and made hem for to sprede, 

 As god and goddesse of the flourie mede, 

 In which me thought I might day by daie, 

 Dwellen alway the joly month of Maie, 

 Withouten slepe, withouten meat, or drinke : 

 Adowne full softly I gan to sinke, 

 And leaning on my elbow and my side, 

 The long day I shope me for to abide, 

 For nothing els and I shall not lie, 

 But for to look upon the daisie, 

 That well by reason men it call may 

 The daisie, or els the iye of the day, 



