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