The time shall come when ye shall fly
       In foreign skies,
And slip between the cracks of doom,
       Columbus-wise;
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
       Most readily.

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
Shall be...

                    [here the fragment ends]