A fair fortune I've been lent.
I know from heaven it was sent;
From other women my love has went,
     And lights on Alysoun.

Between March and April
     When branch starts to spring,
The little bird has her will
     In her tune to sing.
I live in love longing,
     For most beautiful of all things.
She may me bliss bring:
     I am by her bound.

Of hue her hair is fair enough,
     Her brow brown, her eye black.
With light cheer she with me laughs,
     With middle small and well made.
Unless she me will to her take,
     For to be her own mate,
Will to live I will forsake,
     And doomed fall down.

At night I turn awake,
     For this my cheeks wax wan;
Lady, all for your sake
     Longing has settled me on.
In the world there's not so wise a man
     That all her beauty tell can.
Her neck is whiter than the swan,
     The fairest maid in town.

I am for longing all awake,
     Weary as water in pool,
Lest any steal from me my mate,
     For whom I've yearned forever.
But better to suffer now sore
     Than to mourn evermore.
Grandest under gown,
     Listen to my round.

| Original Poem |

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