means.

Wynter wakeneth al my care,
Nou this leves waxeth bare,
Ofte y sike ant mourne sare, _sigh; sore._
When hit cometh in my thoht
Of this worldes joie, how hit goth al to noht.

Now hit is, ant now hit nys, _it is not._
Also hit ner nere y-wys,[9]
That moni mon seith soth hit ys,[10]
Al goth bote Godes wille,
Alle we shule deye, thah us like ylle. _though it pleases us ill._

Al that gren me graueth grene,[11]
Nou hit faleweth al by-dene; _grows yellow: speedily._
Jhesu, help that hit be sene, _seen._
Ant shild us from helle;
For y not whider y shal, ne hou longe her duelle.[12]


I will now give a modern version of it, in which I have spoiled the
original of course, but I hope as little as well may be.

Winter wakeneth all my care;
Now the trees are waxing bare;
Oft my sighs my grief declare[13]
When it comes into my thought
Of this world's joy, how it goes all to nought.