[Written by Richard Chaucer anno 1572] alone walkyng, in thought planing, and sore sighing, all desolate. me remembryng, of my livyng, my dethe wishyng
Alone walkyng, in thought planning, And sore sighing, all desolate. Me remembering, of my livyng, My dethe wishyng, Bother erly and late. Infortunate,
