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this day day dawes |
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this gentil day day dawes |
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this gentil day day dawes |
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and i must home gone |
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this gentil day dawes |
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this day day dawes |
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this gentil day dawes |
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and we must home gone |
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in a glorious garden grene |
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sawe i sitting a comly quene |
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among the floures that fresh bene |
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she gaderd a floure and set betwene |
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the lily whighte rose me thought i sawe |
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the lily whighte rose me thought i sawe |
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and ever she sang |
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in that garden be floures of hewe |
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the gelofir gent that she well knewe |
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the floure-de-luce she did on rewe |
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and said \"the white rose is most trewe |
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this garden to rule by rightwys lawe\" |
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and ever she sang |
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his gentle deed in glory who was proud and grand |
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so i sit here a lilly white comely queen |
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gentle fear beheld that saw she did love anew |
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in his blossom a flower most true |
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and for knoweth lilly white virgin queen |
