General Prologue - Opening (Middle English)

Whan that Aprille with his shoures soote  
The droghte of March hath perced to the roote,  
And bathed every veyne in swich licour  
Of which vertu engendred is the flour;  
Whan Zephirus eek with his sweete breeth  
Inspired hath in every holt and heeth  
The tendre croppes, and the yonge sonne  
Hath in the Ram his half cours yronne,  
And smale foweles maken melodye,  
That slepen al the nyght with open ye  
(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;  
And specially from every shires ende  
Of Engelond to Caunterbury they wende,  
The hooly blisful martir for to seke,  
That hem hath holpen whan that they were seeke.

When April with its sweet showers
Has pierced the drought of March to the root,
And bathed every vein in such liquid
By whose power the flower is engendered;
When Zephyrus also with his sweet breath
Has inspired the tender shoots in every wood and field,
And the young sun has run half its course
In the sign of the Ram (Aries),
And small birds make melody,
Those that sleep all night with open eyes—
(So Nature pricks them in their hearts)—
Then people long to go on pilgrimages,
And travellers seek foreign shores,
To distant shrines known in various lands;
And especially, from every shire's end
Of England, they travel to Canterbury,
To seek the holy blessed martyr,
Who has helped them when they were sick.