The long love that in my thought doth harbor,

And in mine heart doth keep his residence,

Into my face presseth with bold pretense

And therein campeth, spreading his banner.

She that me learneth to love and suffer

And will that my trust and lust's negligence

Be reined by reason, shame, and reverence.

With his hardiness taketh displeasure.

Wherewithal unto the heart's forest he fleeth,

Leaving his enterprise with pain and cry,

And there him hideth, and not appeareth.

What may I do, when my master feareth,

But in the field with him to live and die?

For good is the life ending faithfully.

I find no peace, and all my war is done,

I fear and hope, I burn and freeze like ice,

I fly above the wind, yet can I not arise,

And naught I have, and all the world I seize on.

That looseth nor locketh holdeth me in prison,

And holdeth me not, yet can I 'scape nowise;

Nor letteth me live nor die at my devise,

And yet of death it giveth me occasion.

Without eyen I see, and without tongue I plain;

I desire to perish, and yet I ask health;

I love another, and thus I hate myself;

I feed me in sorrow, and laugh in all my pain.

Likewise displeaseth me both death and life,

And my delight is causer of this strife.