Classic Poem

As I walked me this endurs day
to the grene wode for to play
and all hevyness to put away
my-self alone.

As I walkyd vndir the grene wode bowe
I sawe a maide fayre i-now;
a child she heppid, she song, she lough —
that child wepid alone.

" Son," she sayd, " I have thee borne
to save mankynd that was forlorne;
therfor I pray thee, son, ne morne,
but be still alone."

" Moder, me thynkith it is ryt ill
that men sekyth for to spill.
for them to save it is my will;
therfor I cam hither alone."

" Sone," she sayd, " let it be in thi thought,
for mannys gilt is not with sought;
for thu art he that hath all wrought,
and I thi moder alone."