The sunnes cours, we may well kenne
Ariseth est and goth down west
The rivers into the see they renne
And it is never the more almest
Windes rosheth here and henne
In snow and rain is non arrest
Whon this woll stunte who wot, or whenne
But only god on grounde grest?
The erthe in oon is ever prest
Now bedropped, now all drye
But uche gome glit forth as a gest
This world fareth as a fantasye