To Seem the Stranger Lies My Lot

To seem the stranger lies my lot, my life  
Among strangers. Father and mother dear,  
Brothers and sisters are in Christ not near  
And he my peace my parting, sword and strife.  
 England, whose honour O all my heart woos, wife
To my creating thought, would neither hear  
Me, were I pleading, plead nor do I: I wear-  
y of idle a being but by where wars are rife.  
 
 I am in Ireland now; now I am at a thírd  
Remove. Not but in all removes I can
Kind love both give and get. Only what word  
Wisest my heart breeds dark heaven’s baffling ban  
Bars or hell’s spell thwarts. This to hoard unheard,  
Heard unheeded, leaves me a lonely began.