Whilst researching for my dissertation I've uncovered, in a dusty old poetry collection on the shelves at the Albert Sloman Library at Essex University, a long forgotten Chaucer poem. Really exciting and surprisingly topical. Seems life wasn't much different in Medieval England than it is now!
Snowwe
Walkyng along these frozen streetes,
myne feete doth ayche, myne bownes doth creeke.
myne feete doth ayche, myne bownes doth creeke.
Ey canethnot feele myne fyngers or towes,
icicles hangeth from myne nose.
icicles hangeth from myne nose.
Ey feeles so saddeth ey wannte to crie,
amongst a charnel howse to lye.
amongst a charnel howse to lye.
Twas happenstance that ey didde fynd,
summe nectar forre myne troubled mynd.
summe nectar forre myne troubled mynd.
Nothing doth mayke a sadde harte glowe,
than a cocke and balles drawyn inn thee snowwe.
than a cocke and balles drawyn inn thee snowwe.
Geoffrey Chaucer 1369
