Classic Poem

Alas, that ever that speche was spoken
That the fals aungel seid to me!
Alas! oure maker's bidding is broken,
For I have touched his owen dere tree.
Oure flescly eyn bin all unloken;
Naked for sinne oureself we see;
That sory appel that we ham soken
To dethe hathe brouth my spouse and me.