Do they come with bold confident steps in the crimson sunset,
And the dropping sun beyond the stubble,
And their shadows long behind them on the dust of the common road?

They are bold, for they come even hand in hand …
They are woman and man, great in love,
And free, for that the heart's longing is met and enfolded,
One by the other …

Do they smile at the heavy blood-struggle among the millions,
And they rising and falling, and doing the tasks of Earth,
Among death, and despair, and bitter travail, and the dust of facts?

They smile in a world lit by the light in their own hearts …
Their love flowing into each other is great and it overflows …
And what love touches becomes transfigured.

But now do they raise their heads and are their lips parted
In wonder and in prayer?

Yea, before them, in the dust of the common road,
And bathed in the last light of day,
The Golden City hangs, the Golden City hangs.

There rise her white towers toward the evening star and the pale moon,
There lie her thronging streets,
There the struggling millions wrestle with confused dreams,
And are born, and marvel, and die …

And woman and man, the human pair,
Go toward the Golden City, and they smile through tears as they go …
Death shall come soon enough, but not till Life is spent,
Poured out on Earth in the laughter of October fields of harvest …

A child beckons them; it is the timid and ungrown Future:
And Night, the Mother, the Past, urges them onward …

And they go to the Golden City,
They go to the Golden City …
It is the City of Life,
And the Life is the Life of Man.