At the end of the world

In the lodge of the Mother of Men,
In the land of Desire,
Are the embers of fire,
Are the ashes of those who return.
Who return to the world;
Who flame at the breath
Of the Mockers of Death.
O Sweet, we will voyage again
To the camp of Love's fire,
Nevermore to return!

O love, by the light of thine eyes
We will fare over-sea;
We will be
As the silver-winged herons that rest
By the shallows,
The shallows of sapphire stone;
No more shall we wander alone.
As the foam to the shore
Is my spirit to thine,
And God's serfs as they fly,--
The Mockers of Death--
They will breathe on the embers of fire
We shall live by that breath.
Sweet, thy heart to my heart,
As we journey afar,
No more, nevermore, to return!