A Ballad Of Gentleness

The firste stock-father of gentleness,
What man desireth gentle for to be,
Must follow his trace, and all his wittes dress,
Virtue to love, and vices for to flee;
For unto virtue longeth dignity,
And not the reverse, safely dare I deem,
All wear he mitre, crown, or diademe.

This firste stock was full of righteousness,
True of his word, sober, pious, and free,
Clean of his ghost, and loved business,
Against the vice of sloth, in honesty;
And, but his heir love virtue as did he,
He is not gentle, though he riche seem,
All wear he mitre, crown, or diademe.

Vice may well be heir to old richess,
But there may no man, as men may well see,
Bequeath his heir his virtuous nobless;
That is appropried to no degree,
But to the first Father in majesty,
Which makes his heire him that doth him queme,
All wear he mitre, crown, or diademe.

by Geoffrey Chaucer

Comments (7)

amazing! I loved that poem indeed.
The dying gales that pant upon the trees, The lake that quivers to the lurking breeze. Even here where frozen chastity retires, Love finds an altar for forbidden fires. superb thoughts. Genius mind
there died the best of passion and fame. Tears still are mine and these I need not spare. Banished lover and captive maid live, speak and breathe what love inspires. Speed the soft intercourse from soul to soul and waft a sigh from Indus to pole. brilliant mind.
Deep solitudes! Thanks for sharing this poem with us.
To read and weep.... Reminds me of the song READ 'EM AND WEEP popularized by BARRY MANILOW.... thanks for posting....
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