On some forgotten mile of regret
Pebbled with smoothened tears
I shall seek out a rock of bitter rest
And solace my weary feet of fears.

If the ocean froths before me
Alive with my leaping crimes,
If the trees roar above me
And deny me comforting rhymes;

If no walker passes by my seat
No glance with which to save me;
If no guilty eye will my eye greet
Or no passing breeze will brave me;

I shall make of my sieved soul
A covering for my head
And bind these blistered feet I stole
With pity stripped from bark and bole
To sing me that I once was whole
And measure each mile I tread.