Skip to main content
Author
My cares comen ever anew.
A, dere God, no bote ther nis,
For I am halden for untrewe,
Withouten gilt, so han I bliss!

To be trew wonet I was;
In ony thing that I might do
I thanked God his grete gras;
Now it is I may noght do.
Rate this poem
No votes yet
Reviews
No reviews yet.