Henry Wadsworth Longfellow — Chaucer

An old man in a lodge within a park;        &nbsp The chamber walls depicted all around        &nbsp With portraitures of huntsman, hawk, and hound.        &nbsp And the hurt deer. He listeneth to the lark, Whose song comes with the sunshine through the dark        &nbsp Of painted glass in leaden lattice bound;        &nbsp He listeneth and he laugheth at the sound,        &nbsp Then writeth in a book like any clerk. He is the poet of the dawn, who wrote        &nbsp The Canterbury Tales, and his old age        &nbsp Made beautiful with song; and as I read I hear the crowing cock, I hear the note        &nbsp Of lark and linnet, and from every page        &nbsp Rise odors of ploughed field or flowery mead.