Written on the Blank Space at the end of Chaucer's Tale of 'The Floure and the Lefe'

This pleasant tale is like a little copse:

      The honied lines so freshly interlace,

      To keep the reader in so sweet a place,

So that he here and there full-hearted stops;

And oftentimes he feels the dewy drops

      Come cool and suddenly against his face,

      And, by the wandering melody, may trace

Which way the tender-legged linnet hops.

Oh! what a power has white simplicity!

      What mighty power has this gentle story!

      I, that do ever feel athirst for glory,

Could at this moment be content to lie

      Meekly upon the grass, as those whose sobbings

      Were heard of none beside the mournful robins.