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long-closed doors have opened wide, Come in, Beloved, partake, abide,
 * Make home with me;

I'll weave a chaplet for thy brow Of bitter-sweet and rue, and thou
 * Shalt crownèd be.

The grapes hang purpling on the wall, The flagons brim, the apples fall,
 * The hours run fast;

Gray shadows lengthen, toward the west The sun is turning—be my guest
 * While day shall last!

The fire upon the altar burns, The tide is in, the light returns
 * Far out at sea;

The heart that hath so long been dumb Speaks once again: Beloved, come,
 * Make home with me.