I am a blossom of the plain;
Carry me back from the avenue
To mountain and wilderness again
Where air’s to breathe, and the vast to view.

Far from self I have gone astray,
Learnt me the foxy and furtive wont;
Carry me, helpers of the way,
Back to the reeds, my ancient haunt.

Once I had a word in my heart;
Now it has vanished from my breast;
Though I am old, let me depart
Back to the school that taught me best.

I am a hushed and silent lute;
Now in my head is a new, sweet air;
O let my strings be no longer mute,
Take me to him whom will repair.

In this night that enshroudeth me
Sufficient sun is my ancient brand;
Take away from my dormitory
The shuttered lamp that is in thy hand.

Lo, to the slaves I have declareed
True kingship’s innermost mystery;
I am a slave who greatly erred;
To the king for judgement O carry me!