O happy dames

O happy dames that may embrace

The wits of your delight,

Help to bewail the woeful case,

And eke the heavy plight

Of me that wonted to rejoice

The fortune of my pleasant choice:

Good ladies, help to fill my mourning voice.

Alas, how oft in dreams I see

Those eyes that were my food,

Which sometime so delighted me

That yet they do me good.

Wherewith I wake with his return,

Whose absent flame did make me burn;

But when I find the lack, Lord how I mourn.