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