Born of the kingly rank and palaces thy keep,
With domes of gold and marbled halls,
And garments jewelled and court dancers like fairies,
To dance and sing for thee, and thy limbs to caress.
Servants a hundred and wines to the fill.
All desires of men – of anything that thou wouldst desire,
Had thee in possession, just to take and devour.
Thou hadst all of it:
The singing and dancing in the courtyard;
The lavish feastings and worthy friends,
And women – the fairest in the land,
Whose lips thou hadst suck passionately;
In whose limbs thou hadst lain entwined
Through nights of moon and music: hot and cold
Were thine, all worldly pleasures: thou hadst taken of it.
And then one sombre night, awokest thou,
And gazing through the window saw the land
That cried with suffering, death, disease.
In thy breast a desire was born
To know why suffered others; to seek.
Thou eyeth the woman at thy side, the child,
Both unstirred in sweetest sleep and in moonbeams bathed.
Not a sorrow entered thy heart: to leave them,
And thou hadst left – a mendicant became.
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