This World Fareth As A Fantasye

The sunnes cours, we may well kenne
Ariseth est and goth down west:
The rivers into the see they renne
And it is never the more almest;

Windes rosheth here and henne;
In snow and rain is non arrest
Whon this woll stunte who wot, or whenne
But only god on grounde grest?

The erthe in oon is ever prest
Now bedropped, now all drye;
But uche gome glit forth as a gest:
This world fareth as a fantasye