This day day dawes
This gentill day dawes,
This gentill day dawes
And I must go home.

In a glorius garden grene
Sawe I syttyng a comly quene
Among the flouris that fresth byn.
She gaderd a floure and set betwene;
The lyly-whight rose methought I sawe
The lyly-whight rose methought I sawe,
And ever she sang:
This day day dawes...

In that garden be flouris of hewe;
The gelofir gent that she well knewe
The flour-de-luce she did on rewe,
And said - ‘The white rose is most trewe
This garden to rule be ryghtwis lawe’.
The lyly-whyghte rose methought I sawe,
And ever she sang:
This day day dawes...