In somno audivi vocem dicentem mihi: Bene jejunas cito iturus ad patriam tuam, et iterum post paululum tempus audivi responsum dicentem mihi: Ecce navis tua parata est.
The voice you heard we say we want to hear—
But, when it speaks, ashamed we look away.
The voice one hears alone may be sincere
And know the outcome of the waiting day—
But is it safe to listen? From our gray,
Quotidian security toward green
Or even blue, though little be our pay,
Why should we turn? Why spoil the comfy scene?
Aye, as you say, our lives right now are mean,
May even earn a sad, degraded rating.
But, when the angels overhead convene,
Our dread will be extreme beyond all stating.
Servitude here in heathendom, Saint Pat,
Cannot, we reckon, be as bad as that.