Classic Poem

With right all my herte now I you grete,
With hondert syes, my dere!
Swete God, give us grace sone to mete,
And sone to speken ifere.
Annes, Annes, Annes, Annes, Annes!
Annes, be now stedfaste on allewys,
And thinke on me, my swete Annes.
My faire Annes, my sothe Annes,
I love youre . . . .