And I spake not of it to a single soul,
Until the ulcer, eating through my skin,
Betray’d my secret penance, so that all
My brethren marvel’d greatly. More than this
I bore, whereof, O God, thou knowest all.
Three winters, that my soul might grow to thee
I lived up there on yonder mountain side.
My right leg chain’d into the crag, I lay
Pent in a roofless close of ragged stones,
Inswath’d sometimes in wandering mist, and twice