Obstinate are the trammels, but my heart aches when I try
to
break them.
Freedom is all I want, but to hope for it I feel ashamed.
I am certain that priceless wealth is in thee, and that
thou art my
best friend, but I have not the heart to sweep away the
tinsel that
fills my room
The shroud that covers me is a shroud of dust and death;
I hate
it, yet hug it in love.
My debts are large, my failures great, my shame secret
and
heavy; yet when I come to ask for my good, I quake in
fear lest my
prayer
be granted.
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