Poor sinner! was it hatred of the world
Abused thy young heart to so great extreme
That thou dost fear the sun. and heaven’s fair face?
Scarcely imprisoned in her living grave,
None saw her, through the window of the tower,
Receive upon her lips the wind’s fresh breath,
Nor look upon the heaven in sunshine beauty,
Or the sweet flowerets on the plain of earth,
Or, dearer hundred-fold, her fellow-men.
’Tis only known that still she is in life;