Across the moat from drawbridge raised,
Sitting in dew moist grass in lasting wait,
To be allowed to sing to beauty to be praised,
A need only a meeting of souls will sate.

I strum my thirteen string lute sadly
My minstrel song forms to breach the wall
The defiant moat I would swim gladly
If you would but hear and give me the call.

But from silent wall of cold wrought stone,
Come only echoed sound of lute’s melody,
No harmony for me I play this song alone
With drawbridge raised to isolate me.