The Grain Tribute

There came an officer knocking by night at my door In a loud voice demanding grain-tribute. My house-servants dared not wait till the morning, But brought candles and set them on the barn-floor. Passed through the sieve, clean-washed as pearls, A whole cart-load, thirty bushels of grain. But still they cry that it is not paid in full: With whips and curses they goad my servants and boys. Once, in error, I entered public life; I am inwardly ashamed that my talents were not sufficient. In succession I occupied four official posts; For doing nothing—ten years’ salary! Often have I heard that saying of ancient men That “good and ill follow in an endless chain.” And to-day it ought to set my heart at rest To return to others the corn in my great barn.