There was a time I thought of mine only

Could it be occurred to me while lonely

I was noble personage

Born to beautify the page

If I used time to set it down



There was a time I thought of mine only

Could it be occured to me while lonely

I was of high lineage

Cast up in a dreadful age

Born to be the hermit of my line



On a windy Saturday

St. Alban's market day

Little did I know

the work I was to do

Or the love I had to show