The lark sang well, but ah, it sang too high!

We could not lift our hearts to heaven’s gate;

We only heard the wind moan at our door.

We cried to the saints, but they took no heed!

One told us what they did at Goy and Vannes,

At Goy and Vannes, pardieu! they helped themselves!

We heard there had come a new lord to Morbec,

A soldier and a stranger to us all!

Three days have gone since I did sit alone

Upon the cliff edge in the waving grass;