The harp that thou didst give me, and all day
I sit in idleness, while to and fro
About me thy serene, grave servants go
And I am weary of my lonely ease
Better a perilous journey overseas
Away from thee, than this, the life I lead,
To sit all day in the sunshine like a weed
That grows to naught,—I love thee more than they
Who serve thee most; yet serve thee in no way.
Father, I beg of thee a little task
To dignify my days,-'tis all I ask
Forever, but forever, this denied,
I perish."
"Child," my father's voice replied
"All things thy fancy hath desired of me
Thou hast received. I have prepared for thee
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