When the nightegale singes
And the wodes waxen grene
Lef and grass and blosme springes
In Averil, I wene
(And) love is to min herte gon
With one spere so kene
Night and day my blod it drinkes
Min herte deth me tene
Ich have loved all this year
That I may love namore
Ich have siked mony sik
Lemmon, for thin ore
Me nis love never the ner
And that me reweth sore
Swete lemmon, thench on me
Ich have loved thee yore