If gold rusts, what then can iron do?

In love there is but little rest.

Full wise is he that can himselven knowe.

Many a true word is spoken in jest

Many small make a great.

And gladly would he learn, and gladly teach

Of alle the floures in the mede, Than love I most these floures whyte and rede, Swiche as men callen daysies in our toun. . . . . Til that myn herte dye. . . . . That wel by reson men hit calle may The 'dayesye' or elles the 'ye of day,' The emperice and flour of floures alle. I pray to god that faire mot she falle, And alle that loven floures, for hir sake!