Mi dere sones, where ye fare, be frith, or by fell, Take good hede in his tyme how Tristrem wol tell; How many maner bestes of venery there were, Listenes now to oure Dame, and ye shullen here. Ffowre maner of bestes of venery there are, The first of hem is a hert, the second is an hare; The boor is one of tho, The wolff, and no mo. And whereso ye comen in play or in place, Now shal I tel you which ben bestes of chace; One of tho a buk, another a doo, The ffox and the marteryn, and the wilde roo; And ye shall, my dere sones, other bestes all, Where so ye hem finde, rascall hem call, In frith or in fell, Or in fforest, y yow tell. And to speke of the hert, if ye wil hit lere, Ye shall cal him a calfe at the first yere; The seconde yere a broket, so shal he be, The third yere a spayard, lerneth this at me; The iii yere calles hem a stagge, be eny way The fift yere a grete stagge, my dame bade you say. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...POETS ARE BORN NOT MADE by ROBERT FROST FRAGMENTS WRITTEN WHILE TRAVELING...A MIDWESTERN HEAT WAVE by JAMES GALVIN THE IMPORTANCE OF GREEN by JAMES GALVIN PROVING by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON MONADNOCK IN EARLY SPRING by AMY LOWELL |