(“Behold, this dreamer cometh”)
They stript me bare and left me by the way
To pine forsaken in a lonely land;
They gave me to night-frosts and burning day
To griefs none understand.
They took my silver from me and my gold,
The changing splendors of my rich array;
Night’s silver rain of dew escaped their hold,
And the fine gold of day.
On the world’s highway in vain pomp they tread;