Geoffrey Chaucer - The Love Unfeigned lyrics

O Yonge fresshe folkes, he or she In which that love up groweth with your age Repeyreth hoom from worldly vanitee And of your herte up-casteth the visage To thilke god that after his image Yow made, and thinketh al nis but a fayre This world, that pa**eth sone as floures fayre And loveth him, the which that right for love Upon a cros, our soules for to beye First starf, and roos, and sit in hevene a-bove; For he nil falsen no wight, dar I seye That wol his herte al hoolly on him leye And sin he best to love is, and most meke What nedeth feyned loves for to seke?