Whan that Aprill 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 night 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.
        Bifel that in that seson on a day,
        In [Southwerk] at the Tabard as I lay
        Redy to wenden on my pilgrymage
        To [Caunterbury] with ful devout corage,
        At nyght was come into that hostelrye
        Wel nyne and twenty in a compaignye
        Of sondry folk, by aventure yfalle
        In felaweshipe, and pilgrimes were they alle,
        That toward [Caunterbury] wolden ryde.
        The chambers and the stables weren wyde,
        And wel we weren esed atte beste.
        And shortly, whan the sonne was to reste,
        So hadde I spoken with hem everichon
        That I was of hir felaweshipe anon,
        And made forward erly for to ryse,
        To take oure wey ther as I you devyse.

        [235 counted words.]