For Sore Eyes
For a man that is almost blind:
Let him go bare-hed all day again the wind
Till the sunne be sett;
At even wrap him in a cloke,
And put him in a hous full of smoke,
And looke that every hole be well shett.
And when his eyen begine to rope,
Fill hem full of brinston and sope,
And hill him well and warm.
And if he see not by the next moone
As well at midnight as at noone,
I shall lese my right arm!
Source: Sisam, The Oxford Book of Medieval English
Verse
| Translated
Poem |