human
Was it not the other day That a pilgrim came this way? And a passion him possessed, That upon his bed he lay, Lay, and tossed, and knew no rest, In his pain discomforted. But thou camest by his bed, Holding high thine amice fine And thy kirtle of ermine. Then the beauty that is thine Did he look on; and it fell That the Pilgrim straight was well, Straight was hale and comforted. And he rose up from his bed, And went back to his own place Sound and strong, and fair of face.
gpt
Then caught she up her kirtle in both hands, behind and before, and flitted over the dew that lay deep on the grass, and fled out of the garden, and the daisy flowers bending below her tread seemed dark against her feet, so white was the maiden. Can't you see her stealing with those