And forto se the proprete

Of every thyng in his degree, 930

Benethe forth among ous hiere

Al stant aliche in this matiere:

The See now ebbeth, now it floweth,

The lond now welketh, now it groweth,[193]

Now be the Trees with leves grene,

Now thei be bare and nothing sene,

Now be the lusti somer floures,[194]

Now be the stormy wynter shoures,