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Text: Whan that Aprill, with his shoures sote The droghte of March hath perced to the rote And bathed every veyne in swich licour, Of which vertu engendred is the flour; Whan Zephirus eek with his sweete breeth Inspired hath in every holt and heeth The tendre croppes, and the yonge sonne Hath in the Ram his halfe cours yronne, And smale fowles maken melodye, That slepen al the night with open yë Than longen folk to goon on pilgri. Each paragraph will be a test.

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