Eke Wonder Last But Nine Deies Never

And As For Me, Thogh That I Can But Lyte, On Bakes For To Rede I Me Delyte, And To Hem Yeve I Feyth And Ful Credence, And In Myn Herte Have Hem In Reverence So Hertely, That Ther Is Game Noon, That Fro My Bokes Maketh Me To Goon, But Hit Be Seldom, On The Holyday; Save, Certeynly, When That The Month Of May Is Comen, And That I Here The Foules Singe, And That The Floures Ginnen For To Springe, Farwel My Book And My Devocion.

The Life So Brief, The Art So Long In The Learning, The Attempt So Hard, The Conquest So Sharp, The Fearful Joy That Ever Slips Away So Quickly - By All This I Mean Love, Which So Sorely Astounds My Feeling With Its Wondrous Operation, That When I Think Upon It I Scarce Know Whether I Wake Or Sleep.

And For To See, And Eek For To Be Seie.

With Empty Hand No Man Can Lure A Hawk.

Truth Is The Highest Thing That Man May Keep.