Geoffrey Chaucer

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

Good Counsel Of Chaucer - Poem by Geoffrey Chaucer

Flee from the press, and dwell with soothfastness;
Suffice thee thy good, though it be small;
For hoard hath hate, and climbing tickleness,
Press hath envy, and weal is blent o'er all,
Savour no more than thee behove shall;
Read well thyself, that other folk canst read;
And truth thee shall deliver, it is no dread.

Paine thee not each crooked to redress,
In trust of her that turneth as a ball;
Great rest standeth in little business:
Beware also to spurn against a nail;
Strive not as doth a crocke with a wall;
Deeme thyself that deemest others' deed,
And truth thee shall deliver, it is no dread.

What thee is sent, receive in buxomness;
The wrestling of this world asketh a fall;
Here is no home, here is but wilderness.
Forth, pilgrim! Forthe beast, out of thy stall!
Look up on high, and thank thy God of all!
Weive thy lust, and let thy ghost thee lead,
And truth thee shall deliver, it is no dread.


Comments about Good Counsel Of Chaucer by Geoffrey Chaucer

  • Gold Star - 19,508 Points Kim Barney (6/5/2015 9:44:00 AM)

    It is no dread;
    so the man said,
    but it is a crime
    to waste my time
    struggling to read
    these old words indeed. (Report) Reply

    2 person liked.
    1 person did not like.
  • Gold Star - 14,100 Points Rajnish Manga (6/5/2015 7:10:00 AM)

    Each one of the lines of this poem leads us to the virtues of righteousness. I recall the following ones: Savour no more than thee behove shall; / Read well thyself, that other folk canst read; / And truth thee shall deliver, it is no dread. (Report) Reply

  • Gold Star - 23,674 Points Edward Kofi Louis (6/5/2015 5:25:00 AM)

    Soothfastness. Nice work. (Report) Reply

Read all 3 comments »



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Read poems about / on: truth, lust, trust, hate, home, god, world, thanks



Poem Submitted: Tuesday, December 31, 2002



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