[Falling to his knees with a groan] Mother, spirit of eternal kindness. Mother, you give me back my lost world.
[The mother folds him in her arms, and clasps him without speaking for a time. Tremblingly she strokes his head and his body again and again. At length, as she looks at him, a strange glow of happiness lights up her face, and she speaks to him in a plaintive chant]
Child of my heart, whom the world thrusts aloof, Had you but stayed with me, ne'er left my roof! Home now returning, find peace in my arms, They hold you once more, son, safe from all harms. Tranquilly cradled, unscathed shall you bide, Keeping the house, no more ranging wide. Tenderly stroking your brow and your hair, I will set your heart free from all sorrow and care, And the curse which I spoke on that ill-omened day, Lo, with my hands I have brushed it away!
[Awestruck] Oh Mother, how thin your hands have become; Oh Mother, how wan your cheeks have become. Your heart is scarce beating; your lips are so pale. How can I help you? Can nothing avail?
My days have been lonely, my nights have been dreary. When you did not return, I grew heart-sick and weary. Your absence was killing me. Now you are back, Your coming suffices. Naught more do I lack.
Through the streets did I wander, my heart turned to stone. Your forgiveness now craving, I fain would atone.
Nightly I dreamed your dreams, As I lay in the empty house, Alone and forsaken. By day they lurked in the shadows; But as night fell, Stealing forth from dark corners, Like toads, bats, and owls, They crawled and flittered round my temples, Filling my soul with horror. Rending and gnawing, Devouring sleep, Like vampires did they sap my strength, So that the dawning of day Found me hag-ridden, Shattered and broken. Jeremiah, I adjure you, Leave me not again. Jeremiah, I implore you, Stay with me, stay with me, For the time is short.
Seek not to deceive me. Think you I know not That death draws near? Even as on a dial The shadow rises Stage by stage up the wall While the sun sinks in the west, So, with every breath I draw, Does darkness rise within me. Woe is me that, still living and aware, I feel the grip of death's cold hand.
Nay, Mother, God's purpose with us is plain. How can you think he will part us anew? No more am I froward. Your child once again, I am sent back by him for a fresh life with you. Were it otherwise, say to me why should I be Unclouded by visions, from dreaming set free?