Som fowles there be that have so perfaict sight

Som fowles there be that have so perfaict sight
Agayn the Sonne their lyes for to defend,
And som because the light doeth theim offend,
Do never pere but in the darke or nyght.

Other reioyse that se the fyer bright.
And wene to play in it as they do pretend.
And fynde the contrary of it that they intend ;
Alas of that sort I may be by right,

For to withstond her loke I ame not able.
And yet can I not hide me in no darke place,
Remembraunce so foloweth me of that face;

So that with tery yen, swolne and unstable.
My destyne to behold her doeth me lede.
Yet do I knove I run into the glede.