Classic Poem

All other love is like the moone
That wexth and waneth as flowr in plain,
As flowr that faireth and falweth soone,
As day that clereth and endth in rain.

All other love biginth by blisse,
In wop and wo makth his ending;
No love ther n'is that evre habbe lisse
But what areste in Hevene-King,
Whos love is fresh and evre greene
And evre full without wanying;
His love sweeteth withoute teene,
His love is endless and a-ring.

All other love I flee for thee;
Tell me, tell me where thou list.
" In Marie mild and free
I shall be found, ac more in Crist."