¶ "Lord, hit maketh myn herte light,
Whan I thenke on that swete wight
That is so semely on to see;
And wisshe to god hit might so be,
That she wolde holde me for hir knight,
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My lady, that is so fair and bright!"—
'Now have I told thee, sooth to saye,
My firste song. Upon a daye
I bethoghte me what wo