Some fowls there be that have so perfect sight

Again the sun their eyes for to defend;

And some because the light doth them offend

Do never 'pear but in the dark or night.

Other rejoice that see the fire bright

And ween to play in it, as they do pretend,

And find the contrary of it that they intend.

Alas, of that sort I may be by right,

For to withstand her look I am not able

And yet can I not hide me in no dark place,

Remembrance so followeth me of that face.

So that with teary eyen, swollen and unstable,