In a somer seson, whan softe was the sonne,I shoop me into shroudes as I a sheep were,In habite as an heremite unholy of werkes,Wente wide in this world wondres to here.Ac on a May morwenynge on Malverne hillesMe bifel a ferly, of Fairye me thoghte.
somer, seson, whan, softe, shoop, me, shroudes, sheep, habite
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