General Prologue - Canterbury Tales Middle English - Modern English Whan that Aprille, with his shoures soote, The droghte of March hath perced to the roote And bathed every veyne with swich licour Of which vertue engendred is the flour Whan Zephirus eek with his swete breeth Inspired hath in every holt and heeth The tendre croppes, and the yonge sonne Hath in the Ram his halfe cours yronne, And smale foweles maken melodye, That slepen al the nyght with open ey. So priketh hem Nature in hir corages Thanne longen folk to goon on pilgrimages, And palmeres for to seken straunge strondes To ferne halwes  kowthe in sondry londes. When April with his sweet showers of fruit, The drought of March has pierced unto the root And bathed each vein with liquor that has power To generate therein and sire the flower; When Zephyr also has, with his sweet breath, Quickened again, in every holt and heath, The tender shoots and buds, and the young sun Into the Ram one half his course has run, And many little birds make melody That sleep through all the night with open eye. So Nature pricks them on to ramp and rage Then do folk long to go on pilgrimage, And palmers to go seeking out strange strands, To distant shrines well known in sundry lands.