IN SUMMER
In somer when the shawes be sheyne,[75]
And leves be large and long,
Hit[76] is full merry in feyre foreste
To here the foulys[77] song.
To se the dere draw to the dale
And leve the hillės hee,
And shadow him in the levės grene
Under the green-wode tree.
Hit befell on Whitsontide
Early in a May mornyng,
The Sonne up fairė gan shyne,
And the briddis mery gan syng.
"This is a mery mornyng," said Litulle Johne,
A more mery man than I am one
Lyves not in Christiantė.
"Pluk up thi hert, my dere mayster,"
Litulle Johne can say,
"And thank hit is a fulle fayre tyme
In a mornynge of May."