Our needs dictate our prayers, Grosphus,
but that much-sought peace-of-mind
cannot be bought or granted by rich patrons.
Who doesn't ask much of life sleeps best.
What vexation: the constant ambition
to be other, elsewhere.
We choose our poison: rich grade-A herds
for you, a fine stable, best wardrobe;
for me, a modest farm, the gift of song
and disdain for popularity.