Whan that Aprill with his shoures sote;
The droghte of Marche hath perced to the rote,
And bathed every veyne in swich licour,
Of which vertu engendred is the flour.
Whan Zephirus eek with his swete breeth,
Inspired hath in every holt and heeth
The tendre croppes, and the yonge sonne
Hath in the Ram his halfe cours yronne.
And smale fowles maken melodye,
That slepen al the night with open yë
(So priketh hem Nature in hir corages).
Thanne longen folk to goon on pilgrimages
(And palmeres for to seken straunge strondes).
To ferne halwes, couthe in sondry londes;
And specially, from every shires ende
Of Engelond to Caunterbury they wende,
The holy blisful martir, for to seke,
That hem hath holpen, whan that they were seke.
—(Chaucer, Canterbury Tales)