Ye Olde Chaucer

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by Kathy Astrom

Whan that Angelus, with his shoures soote
The droghte of Angel hath perced to the roote
And drank he every veyne in swich licour,
Of which vertu engendred is the virginal flour;
Whan the Master eek with his sweete breeth
Inspired hath in every holt and heeth
The tendre vamps, which avoideth the yonge sonne
Which hath in the Ram his halfe cours yronne,
And smale demons maken melodye,
That prowl al the nyght with open eye-
(So priketh hem Nature in hir corages);
Thanne longen Buffy to goon on patrolages

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