’Twas when the abbey rear’d its spires,
Where good St. Edmund buried lies,
A cloister’d maid, with holy fires,
Subdued Love’s rebel tears and sighs.
At times subdued, at times she wept, 5
When came the solemn ev’ning hours;
And often, when she should have slept,
A whisper climb’d the silent towers,
O let poor Anna die!
N. B. This is too serious for a song.