Edmund Spenser

One day I wrote her name upon the strand,
But came the waves and washed it away;
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One day I wrote her name upon the strand,
But came the waves and washed it away;
Agayne I wrote it with a second hand,
But came the tyde and made my paynes his prey.

There grewe an aged tree on the greene;
A goodly Oake sometime had it bene,
With armes read more

There grewe an aged tree on the greene;
A goodly Oake sometime had it bene,
With armes full strong and largely displayed,
But of their leaves they were disarayde
The bodie bigge, and mightely pight,
Thoroughly rooted, and of wond'rous hight;
Whilome had bene the king of the field,
And mochell mast to the husband did yielde,
And with his nuts larded many swine:
But now the gray mosse marred his rine;
His bared boughes were beaten with stormes,
His toppe was bald, and wasted with wormes,
His honour decayed, his brauches sere.

And through the hall there walked to and fro
A jolly yeoman, marshall of the same,
Whose read more

And through the hall there walked to and fro
A jolly yeoman, marshall of the same,
Whose name was Appetite; he did bestow
Both guestes and meate, whenever in they came,
And knew them how to order without blame.

The merry cuckow, messenger of Spring,
His trumpet shrill hath thrice already sounded.

The merry cuckow, messenger of Spring,
His trumpet shrill hath thrice already sounded.

Don Chaucer. well of English undefyled
On Fame's eternall beadroll worthie to be fyled.

Don Chaucer. well of English undefyled
On Fame's eternall beadroll worthie to be fyled.