Geoffrey Chaucer

(c. 1343 – 25 October 1400 / London, England)

Geoffrey Chaucer Poems

41. The Canterbury Tales 5/13/2001
42. The Canon's Yeoman's Tale 4/4/2012
43. The Canon's Yeoman's Tale 4/4/2012
44. Since I From Love 12/31/2002
45. Roundel 12/31/2002
46. Rondel Of Merciless Beauty 12/31/2002
47. Rondeau Iii 4/5/2010
48. Proverbs Of Chaucer 12/31/2002
49. Proverbs 5/13/2001
50. Merciles Beaute 1/4/2003
51. L'Envoy Of Chaucer To Bukton 12/31/2002
52. Lak Of Stedfastnesse 5/13/2001
53. La Priere De Nostre Dame 12/31/2002
54. Good Counsel Of Chaucer 12/31/2002
55. Gentilesse 5/13/2001
56. Fortune 5/13/2001
57. Chaucer's Words To His Scrivener 1/3/2003
58. Chaucers Wordes Unto Adam 5/13/2001
59. Chaucer's Tale Of Sir Thopas 4/4/2012
60. Chaucer's Tale Of Meliboeus 4/4/2012
61. Chaucer's Prophecy 12/31/2002
62. Book Of The Duchesse 5/13/2001
63. Balade 1/4/2003
64. Anelida And Arcite 5/13/2001
65. An Abc 5/13/2001
66. Against Women Unconstant 12/31/2002
67. A Rondel Of Merciless Beauty - The Original 4/5/2010
68. A Cook 4/5/2010
69. A Complaint To His Lady 2/9/2015
70. A Ballad Sent To King Richard 12/31/2002
71. A Ballad Of Gentleness 12/31/2002
72. A Balade Of Complaint 5/13/2001
Best Poem of Geoffrey Chaucer

Rondel Of Merciless Beauty

Your two great eyes will slay me suddenly;
Their beauty shakes me who was once serene;
Straight through my heart the wound is quick and keen.

Only your word will heal the injury
To my hurt heart, while yet the wound is clean -
Your two great eyes will slay me suddenly;
Their beauty shakes me who was once serene.

Upon my word, I tell you faithfully
Through life and after death you are my queen;
For with my death the whole truth shall be seen.
Your two great eyes will slay me suddenly;
Their beauty shakes me who was once serene;
Straight through my ...

Read the full of Rondel Of Merciless Beauty

Gentilesse

The firste stok, fader of gentilesse --
What man that desireth gentil for to be
Must folowe his trace, and alle his wittes dresse
Vertu to love and vyces for to flee.
For unto vertu longeth dignitee
And noght the revers, saufly dar I deme,
Al were he mytre, croune, or diademe.

This firste stok was ful of rightwisnesse,

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