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