Wyll ye se what wonderous love hathe wrought

Wyll ye se what wonderous love hathe wrought,
Then come and loke at me ;
There nede no where els to be sought,
Yn me ye maye theim see.
For unto that that men maye see
Most monstruous thing of kinde.
My self may best compared bee,
Love hath me so assignid.

There is a rok in the salte floode,
A rok of suche nature.
That dra withe the yron from the woode.
And leveth the ship unsure.
She is the rok, the ship ame I,
That rok my dedelie ffoo.
That draweth me there, where I muste die,
And robbith my harte me froo.

A birde there flieth and that but on,
Of her this thing ensueth,
That when her dayes be spent and gone,
With fyre she reneweth.
And I with fire may well compare
My love that is alone.
The flames whereof doth aye repare
My lif when yt is gone.