Classic Poem

Go! little bill, and do me recommende
Unto my lady with godely countenaunce.
For, trusty messenger, I thee sende,
Pray her that she make purviaunce:
For my love, thurgh here sufferaunce,
In her bosome desireth to reste,
Sith of all women I love here beste.

She is lilly of redolence,
Which only may do me plesure;
She is the rose of confidence,
Most comforting to my nature.
Unto that lady I me assure:
I will her love and never mo,
Go! little bill, and sey her so.

She resteth in my remembraunce
Day other night wherso I be.
It is my special daliaunce
For to remember her bewte.
She is imprinted in ich degre
With yftes of nature inexplicable,
And eke of grace incomparable.

The cause therfor if she will witt
Will I presume on sych a flowre,
Say of her, for it is iwritt,
She is the feirest paramour,
And to man in ich langour
Most soveraine mediatrice.
Therfore I love that flowre of price.

Her bewte wholy to descrive
Who is she that may suffice?
Forsoth, no clerk that is on live,
Sith she is only withouten vice,
Her flavour excedeth the flowr-de-lice;
Afore all flowres I have her chose,
Enterely in mine herte to close.

Her I beseche, sith I not fein,
But only put me in her grace,
That of me she not disdein,
Taking regarde at old trespace.
Sith mine intent in every place
Shall be to doe her obeisaunce,
And her to love saunce variaunce.