So sore hit is afered of the night,
*Til on the morwe, that hit is dayes light.
55
This dayesye, of alle floures flour,
Fulfild of vertu and of alle honour,
†And ever y-lyke fair and fresh of hewe,
As wel in winter as in somer newe,
(B. 67)
Fain wolde I preisen, if I coude aright;
60