The time shall come when ye shall fly
In foreign skies,
And slip between the cracks of doom,
And ye shall there a planet spy
About some sun,
A virgin world within whose womb
Sweet rivers run.
And ye shall name this planet so:
New Eden One.
And ye shall find on land and sea
Much life begun.
And ye shall find that there doth grow
A talking tree;
This talking tree shall speak with thee
These words of truth I gift to thee,
Though few shall heed;
This tree shall offer golden fruit
That you might feed;
Touch not that fruit! most solemnly
Across the years
I warn ye! though time renders mute
All poet seers.
And whoso shall devour that seed
T’were best ye kill,
For they shall grow most wondrous strong;
And stronger still
[here the fragment ends]