I joked in another thread that I didn't know any poems. While it is true that I have never understood or particularly enjoyed poetry, there have been exceptions. In one of my classes in high school, probably English Literature, we had to memorize a portion of the prologue to Canterbury Tales, in Middle English, and I can still recite about half of it. We also had to be able to recite it, in Old English, write it out in Old English, and write the translation in modern English. I do that to annoy my wife sometimes but have otherwise found no useful purpose for it. Yet, I can recite it in Middle English that is probably pretty faulty after fifty years and may have been wrong at the time. Whan that aprill with his shoures soote The droghte of march hath perced to the roote, And bathed every veyne in swich licour Of which vertu engendred is the flour; Whan zephirus eek with his sweete breeth Inspired hath in every holt and heeth Tendre croppes, and the yonge sonne Hath in the ram his halve cours yronne, And smale foweles maken melodye, That slepen al the nyght with open ye (so priketh hem nature in hir corages); Thanne longen folk to goon on pilgrimages, And palmeres for to seken straunge strondes, To ferne halwes, kowthe in sondry londes; And specially from every shires ende Of engelond to caunterbury they wende, The hooly blisful martir for to seke, That hem hath holpen whan that they were seeke.