The End

A wedding guest, I travel far abroad! The bride, thrice-beautiful; the groom, a wizard; And I ride swiftly to the wedding feast. The land is far, and I must travel on; An endless path before me leads away.

And the far land a vision was! The steed, A smoke! The wedding, angels' shadows fleet! While I,--O cruel wakening!--lie down For ever palsy-stricken and bed-ridden!

And only you, old tunes familiar, I hold. I hold you as a dying darling child, Languid and glowing with the fever's heat, Holds on to his dear plaything, with white wings New-grown for his long journey, even I, The child unskilled, dream-roaming, stript of will!

Old tunes familiar, waft me upon Your shining wings for healing or for death To the cool shadow of the pure-white home And lay me gently on a loving bosom.