Bitwene Mersh and Averil,
When spray biginneth to springe,
The lutel fowl hath hire wil
On hire lud to singe.
Ich libbe in love-longinge
For semlokest of alle thinge;
He may me blisse bringe:
Ich am in hire baundoun.
An hendy hap ich habbe yhent;
Ichot from hevene it is me sent;
From alle wimmen my love is lent,
And light on Alisoun.

On heu hire her is fair ynogh,
Hire browe browne, hire eye blake;
With lossum chere he on me logh;
With middel smal and wel ymake.
Bote he me wolle to hire take
For to been hire owen make,
Longe to liven ichulle forsake,
And feye fallen adoun.
[An hendy hap, etc.]

Nightes when I wende and wake,
Forthy min wonges waxeth won;
Levedy, all for thine sake
Longinge is ylent me on.
In world nis non so witer mon
That al hire bounte telle con;
Hire swire is whittore then the swon,
And feirest may in towne.
[An hendy hap, etc.]
Ich am for wowing al forwake,
Wery so water in wore.
Lest eny reve me my make;
Ich habbe y-yirned yore.
Betere is tholien while sore
Then mournen evermore.
Geynest under gore,
Herken to my roun:
An hendy hap ich habbe yhent;
Ichot from hevene it is me sent;
From alle wimmen my love is lent,
And light on Alisoun.