Epilogue

[Written to all young lovers about to set up homes of their own--but especially to those of some far-distant day, and those of my home-village]

Lovers, O lovers, listen to my call. Give me kind thoughts. I woo you on my knees. Lovers, pale lovers, when the wheat grows tall, When willow trees are Eden's incense trees:--

I would be welcome as the rose in flower Or busy bird in your most secret fane. I would be read in your transcendent hour When book and rhyme seem for the most part vain.

I would be read, the while you kiss and pray. I would be read, ere the betrothal ring Circles the slender finger and you say Words out of Heaven, while your pulses sing.

O lovers, be my partisans and build Each home with a great fire-place as is meet. When there you stand, with royal wonder filled, In bridal peace, and comradeship complete,

While each dear heart beats like a fairy drum-- Then burn a new-ripe wheat-sheaf in my name. Out of the fire my spirit-bread shall come And my soul's gospel swirl from that red flame.

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Obvious typographical errors were repaired.

Hyphenation variants were changed to most frequently used. Where equal, variants were retained.