To Seem The Stranger Lies My Lot My Life

To seem the stranger lies my lot, my

Among strangers.

Father and mother dear,

Brothers and sisters are in Christ not

And he my peace my parting, sword and strife.  England, whose honour O all my heart woos,

To my creating thought, would neither

Me, were I pleading, plead nor do I:

I wear-y of idle a being but by where wars are rife.  I am in Ireland now; now I am at a

Remove.

Not but in all removes I

Kind love both give and get.

Only what

Wisest my heart breeds dark heaven's baffling

Bars or hell's spell thwarts.

This to hoard unheard,

Heard unheeded, leaves me a lonely began.