This hour, this hour, a chalice. Unto its golden cup
We have poured our love, for there be not one man
Who may honestly disclaim that he hath taken within
His heart, God. Mayhap to refuse Him an abiding place;
But His shadow hath rested upon him.
Behold, from this instant we disperse and His shadow
Shall follow thee. I say that tomorrow at some instant
Of time, each of thee shall stop, and I, like a moth
Shall flit thee, and thou shalt remember Him.
I charge thee; it shall be!