II

After þe sesoun of somer wyth þe soft wynde3,

Quen 3eferus syfle3 hym-self on sede3 & erbe3,

Wela-wynne is þe wort þat woxes þer-oute.

When þe donkande dewe drope3 of þe leue3,

To bide a blysful blusch of þe bry3t sunne.

Bot þen hy3es heruest, & hardenes hym sone.

Warne3 hym for þe wynter to wax ful rype;

He dryues wyth dro3t þe dust for to ryse.

Fro þe face of þe folde to fly3e ful hy3e;

Wroþe wynde of þe welkyn wrastele3 with þe sunne,

Þe leue3 lancen fro þe lynde, & ly3ten on þe grounde,

& al grayes þe gres, þat grene wat3 ere;

Þenne al rype3 & rote3 þat ros vpon fyrst,

& þus 3irne3 þe 3ere in 3isterdaye3 mony,

& wynter wynde3 a3ayn, as þe worlde aske3

no sage.
Til me3el-mas mone,
Wat3 cumen wyth wynter wage;
Þen þenkke3 Gawan ful sone,
Of his anious uyage.