Lest we should be the last
To appear before you,
We left our corn in the barn
And unprepared we followed
The winding way to your hut.

Our children begged for water
From the women bearing golden gourds
On their heads,
And laughing on their way from the well;
But we did not stop,
Knowing that in your presence
Our hunger would be barnished
And our thirst assuaged
By the flowing milk of your words.

Now we have come to you,
And are amazed to find
Those you have loved and respected mock you in the face.