Who is Geoffrey Chaucer

Arms of Geoffrey Chaucer: Per pale argent and gules, a bend counterchanged Arms of Chaucer (modern), as adopted by his son Thomas Chaucer and as later quartered by his heirs de la Pole Dukes of Suffolk: Argent, a ch...
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Geoffrey Chaucer Poems

  • To My Empty Purse
    To you, my purse, and to none other wight,
    Complain I, for ye be my lady dere;
    I am sorry now that ye be light,
    For, certes, ye now make me heavy chere; ...
  • The Canterbury Tales; The Persouns Tale
    Part 30


    PROLOGUE TO THE PERSOUNS TALE ...
  • The Complaint Of Chaucer To His Purse
    To yow, my purse, and to noon other wight
    Complayne I, for ye be my lady dere!
    I am so sory, now that ye been lyght;
    For certes, but ye make me hevy chere, ...
  • The Friar's Tale
    This worthy limitour, this noble Frere,
    He made always a manner louring cheer* *countenance
    Upon the Sompnour; but for honesty* *courtesy
    No villain word as yet to him spake he: ...
  • The Complaint Unto Pity
    Pite, that I have sought so yore agoo
    With herte soore and ful of besy peyne,
    That in this world was never wight so woo
    Withoute deth-- and yf I shal not feyne, ...
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Top 10 most used topics by Geoffrey Chaucer

God 38 I Love You 36 Love 36 Good 34 World 31 Never 28 Lady 24 Pray 24 Noble 22 Save 22


Geoffrey Chaucer Quotes

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Comments about Geoffrey Chaucer

  • Optimoprincipi: 3) the tabard was a raucous inn, celebrated for its literary links and quill-twiddling patrons; most famously being the inn where the pilgrims gathered at the beginning of geoffrey chaucer's canterbury tales written over two centuries earlier..
  • Electricmothman: little did geoffrey chaucer know that writing the word “wailaway” would truly make me want to wail.
  • Chadschimke: the canterbury tales by geoffrey chaucer (1387)
  • Woodlandbaston: the canterbury tales || geoffrey chaucer.
  • Welfordwrites: the man of law’s tale, by geoffrey chaucer: a strange canterbury tale
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Poem of the day

Boris Pasternak Poem
The Garden Scatters Burnt-Up Beetles...
 by Boris Pasternak

The garden scatters burnt-up beetles
Like brazen ash, from braziers burst.
I witness, by my lighted candle,
A newly blossomed universe.

And like a not yet known religion
I enter this unheard of night,
In which the shabbily-grey poplar
...

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