Classic Poem

Lovely ter of lovely eye,
Why dost thou me so wo?
Sorful ter of sorful eye,
Thou brekst myn herte a-two.

Thou sikest sore,
Thy sorwe is more
Than mannes mouth may telle;
Thou singest of sorwe
Mankin to borwe
Out of the pit of helle.

I proud and kene,
Thou meke and clene
Withouten wo or wile;
Thou art ded for me,
And I live through thee —
So blissed be that while! ...

Thyn herte is rent,
Thy body is bent
Upon the roode-tree;
The weder is went,
The devel is shent,
Crist, through the might of thee.