Long time he lay upon the sunny hill, To his father's house below securely bound.

The world's great day is growing late, Yet strange these fields that we have planted So long with crops of love and hate.

They do not live in the world, Are not in time and space. From birth to death hurled No word do they have, not one To plant a foot upon, Were never in any plac…

I have observed in foolish awe The dateless mid-days of the law And seen indifferent justice done By everyone on everyone.

I now leave that bed which has afforded me little rest, and eagerly seek repose in the quiet enjoyments of rural life.

Far from the sun and summer-gale, In thy green lap was Nature's Darling laid.

The earth is my altar, the sky is my dome, mind is my garden, the heart is my home and I'm always at home - yea, I'm always at Om.