Classic Poem

Ah! To be all alone in a little cell
With nobody near me;
Beloved that pilgrimage
Before the last pilgrimage to Death.

To be cleansing my flesh with good habits,
Trampling it down like a man;
To be weeping wearily,
Paying for my passions.

A cold bed of fear —
The lying down of a doomed man;
A short sleep, waking to danger;
Tears from early morning.

Dry bread portioned out
A good thing to hollow the face;
An end to gossip; no more fables;
The knees constantly bent.

That will be an end to evil
When I am alone
In a lovely little corner among tombs
Far from the houses of the great.

Ah! To be all alone in a little cell,
To be alone, all alone,
Alone as I came into the world —
And as I shall go from it.