War and Love/An Old Song
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For works with similar titles, see An Old Song.
AN OLD SONG
I have no lust nor care
To sing of Mary,
I praise the quaint sweet air
Of a mortal lady.
She is not clothed in sad
Raiment like Mary
But in cloth and silk that is glad
And fully seemly.
Her eyes are not tear-rimmed
Like those of Mary,
Only with love are they dimmed
When she kisses me.
By God, though she be God's mother,
I care not for Mary,
Only to serve this other
That is so dear to me.
Therefore, sweet friends, I know,
By the splendour of Mary,
Into uttermost hell shall I go
For sweet sin with this lady.