Fling to them mountains to overcome that their feet may be glad on the necks of the hills!
Every immortal must put on dust at a time all know or he is not God,
These shall take seizin of Death together, the dream shall break in the crumbling sod.
But they shall inherit the resurrection, when Death has unloosened his strangling cord!
Since they have endured they shall see your face where there is but Eternity, Eros, Lord!”
Therefore, Muse of the motley garments, indolent thief of obscure Romance,
Puff your cheeks to your penny whistle! fillip the feet of the flying dance!
Blow out your soul in a torrent of music—even the trees are like lamps ablaze!
This is the song of the red-leaf wedding that ended the jack-o’-lantern days!