Welcome! Enter ! This is the Inn at the
Sign of the Rising Sun, of the World's End:
Ay, O Wanderer, footsore, weary, forsaken,
Knock, and we will open to thee—Friend.
Gloomy our stairs of stone, obscure the portal;
Burdened the air with a breath from the further shore;
Yet in our courtyard plays an invisible fountain,
Ever flowers unfading nod at the door.
Ours is much company, and yet none is lonely;
Some with a smile may pay and some with a sigh;
So all be healed, restored, contented—it is no matter—
So all be happy at heart to bid good-bye.
But know, our clocks are the world's; Night's wings
Pain languidly sports with the hours; have
We wake but to bring thee slumber, our drowsy syrups
Sleep beyond dreams on the weary will confer.