I'm minded even now to venture forth,
To go to her, although the hour is late;
And through the darkness, when she hears me call,
Only to say to her this one word, "Come."
Thus unto men speak Birth, Fate, Love and Death,
The four great captains of this brief campaign;
Casting a shadow at the soul's tent-door,
Each in his turn beckons and whispers, "Come."
And I to her am Death, Birth, Love and Fate;
And she to me is Love, and only Love.