POEM OF THE DAY

MOST of us probably encountered the Prologue to Geoffrey Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales in secondary school. Its Middle English also probably seemed daunting, unless the teacher helped with a modern translation. But really it communicates surprisingly well, particularly when read aloud. The smale fowles maken melodye never cease to delight!

from THE PROLOGUE TO THE CANTERBURY TALES

Whan that Aprille with his shoures soote,

The droghte of March hath perced to the roote,

And bathed every veyne in switch licour Of which vertu engendred is the flour; Whan Zephirus eek with his swete breeth

Inspired hath in every holt and heeth The tender croppes, and the yonge sonne

Hath in the Ram his halfe cours y-ronne,

And smale fowles maken melodye,

That slepen al the nyght with open ye, (So priketh hem Nature in his corages), Thanne longen folk to goon on pilgrimages,

And palmeres for to seken straunge strondes,

To ferne halwes, kowthe in sondry londes;

And specially from every shires ende Of Engelond, to Caunterbury they wende,

The hooly blisful martir for to seke,

That hem hath holpen whan that they were seeke.

Bifil that in that seson on a day In Southwerk at the Tabard as I lay Redy to wenden on my pilgrymage To Caunterbury with ful devout corage, At nyght were come into that hostelrye Wel nyne and twenty in a compaignye Of sondry folk, by aventure y-falle In felaweshipe, and pilgrimes were they alle,

That toward Caunterbury wolden ryde…