The knell as I knelt
was a clarion clear
and a dolour in the dell
which drew all my tears

Then being sea-girt
in the brine I had made
I was tempted to drown;
for the price I must pay

Once a swain, bright and bold
I held the heart of a lady true
And yet in winter days grown cold
I broke it well and left it blue

Thrice I made amends and said
I shall be fair and good this time
And thrice, my fool love, I bled
What a ridiculous crime!

Though she became wont
of my every tryst
I was the ingrate
The whited sepulcher, she kissed

Now my own
shame I wear
As dusk digs deep
in the pain, I swear

Each dark zephyr
across my skin
is a breeze of fire
that burns my sin