I learned have, not to despise,
What ever thing seemes small in common eyes.
For of the soule the bodie forme doth take;
For the soule is forme, and doth the bodie make.
For all that faire is, is by nature good;
That is a signe to know the gentle blood.
I hate the day, because it lendeth light
To see all things, but not my love to see.
I was promised on a time
To have reason for my rhyme;
From that time unto this season,
I received nor rhyme nor reason.
O happy earth,
Whereon thy innocent feet doe ever tread!
All for love, and nothing for reward.
The gentle minde by gentle deeds is knowne.
For a man by nothing is so well bewrayd,
As by his manners.
Roses red and violets blew,
And all the sweetest flowres that in the forrest grew.
The gentle minde by gentle deeds is knowne.
For a man by nothing is so well bewrayd,
As by his manners.