For works with similar titles, see Invocation.
INVOCATION.
The 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.