Thurgh brightnesse of the sonne bemes
That yeveth to hir ageyn hir lemes.
That love is right of sich nature;
Now is [it] fair, and now obscure.
Now bright, now clipsy of manere,
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And whylom dim, and whylom clere.
As sone as Poverte ginneth take,
With mantel and [with] wedis blake
[It] hidith of Love the light awey,