Classic Poem

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 fireplace 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.