Gitanjali: 28

Obstinate are the trammels, but my heart aches when I try to
break them.
Freedom is all I want, but to hope for it I feel ashamed.
I am certain that priceless wealth is in thee, and that thou art my
best friend, but I have not the heart to sweep away the tinsel that
fills my room
The shroud that covers me is a shroud of dust and death; I hate
it, yet hug it in love.
My debts are large, my failures great, my shame secret and
heavy; yet when I come to ask for my good, I quake in fear lest my
prayer be granted.