That into night it turneth day;
5355
It may not see Richesse shyne
Til the blakke shadowes fyne.
For, whan Richesse shyneth bright,
Love recovereth ageyn his light;
And whan it failith, he wol flit,
5360
And as she [groweth, so groweth] it.
'Of this love, here what I sey:—