Geoffrey Chaucer
- General Prologue
What that Aprill with hir shoures soote The droughte of March hath perced to the roote and bathed every veyne in swich licour by which virtu engendred is the flour. Whan Zephyrus eek with his sweete breeth inspired hath in every holt and heeth the tendre croppes and the younge sonne hath in the Ram his halfe cours yronne. Thanne smale fowles mocken melodye that slepen all the nyght with open ye (so pricketh him Nature in hir corages) thanne longen folk to goon pilgrimages.
