"Sire Nonnes Preest," oure Hooste seide anoon, "I-blessed be thy breche, and every stoon! This was a murie tale of Chauntecleer. But by my trothe, if thou were seculer, Thou woldest ben a trede-foul aright. For if thou have corage as thou hast myght, Thee were nede of hennes, as I wene, Yaz, moo than seven tymes seventene. See, whiche braunes hath this gentil preest, So gret a nedeth nat his colour for to dyen With brasile, ne with greyn of Portyngale. Now, sire, faire falle yow for youre tale!" And after that, he, with ful merie chere, Seide unto another, as ye shuln heere. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE CHINESE LAUNDRYMAN by KAREN SWENSON OLD KING COLE by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON WHITTIER by MARGARET ELIZABETH MUNSON SANGSTER PHILOSOPHIES by MADELEINE AARON CYNTHIA ON HORSEBACK by PHILIP AYRES A YOUNG LASS'S SOLILOQUY by REBEKAH CARMICHAEL KATRINA ON THE PORCH; A BIT OF TURNER PUT INTO WORDS by ALICE CARY |