Classic Poem

O man unkind, have in mind
My paines smert!
Behold and see that is for thee
Perced my hert.

And yet I wold, or than thou shold
Thy soule forsake,
On cros with pain sharp deth again
For thy love take.

For which I ask none other task
But love again.
Me then to love all thing above
Thou ought be fain.