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The Love Unfeigned
 poem by Geoffrey Chaucer

The Love Unfeigned

O yonge fresshe folkes, he or she, 
In which that love up groweth with your age, 
Repeyreth hoom from worldly vanitee, 
And of your herte up-casteth the visage 
To thilke god that after his image 
Yow made, and thinketh al nis but a fayre 
This world, that passeth sone as floures fayre. 

And loveth him, the which that right for love 
Upon a cros, our soules for to beye, 
First starf, and roos, and sit in hevene a-bove; 
For he nil falsen no wight, dar I seye, 
That wol his herte al hoolly on him leye. 
And sin he best to love is, and most meke, 
What nedeth feyned loves for to seke?

The Love Unfeigned
Geoffrey Chaucer


The Love Unfeigned
 poem by Geoffrey Chaucer

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