The Parlement of Fowls

Now welcome, somer, with thy sonne soft{.e},    That hast this wintr{.e}s wedr{.e}s overshak{.e},    And driven away the long{.e} nyght{.e}s blak{.e}!    Saynt Valentyn, that art ful hy on-lofte,    Thus syngen smal{.e} foul{.e}s for thy sak{.e}:      Now welcome, somer, with thy sonn{.e} soft{.e},      That hast this wintr{.e}s wedr{.e}s overshak{.e}.    Wel han they caus{.e} for to gladen oft{.e},    Sith ech of hem recover{.e}d hath hys mak{.e};  Ful blissful mowe they syng{.e} when they wak{.e}:      Now welcome, somer, with thy sonn{.e} soft{.e}      That hast this wintr{.e}s wedr{.e}s overshak{.e}      And driven away the long{.e} nyght{.e}s blak{.e}!