EN-DOR

The road to En-dor is easy to tread

For Mother or yearning Wife.

There, it is sure, we shall meet our Dead

As they were even in life.

Earth has not dreamed of the blessing in store

For desolate hearts on the road to En-dor.

Whispers shall comfort us out of the dark —

Hands — ah God!— that we knew!

Visions and voices — look and heark!—

Shall prove that our tale is true,

And that those who have passed to the further shore

May be hailed — at a price — on the road to En-dor.

But they are so deep in their new eclipse

Nothing they say can reach,

Unless it be uttered by alien lips

And framed in a stranger's speech.

The son must send word to the mother that bore,

Through an hireling's mouth.‘ Tis the rule of En-dor.

And not for nothing these gifts are shown

By such as delight our dead.

They must twitch and stiffen and slaver a groan

Ere the eyes are set in the head,

And the voice from the belly begins. Therefore

We pay them a wage where they ply at En-dor.

Even so, we have need of faith

And patience to follow the clue.

Often, at first, what the dear one saith

Is babble, or jest, or untrue.

( Lying spirits perplex us sore

Till our loves — and our lives — are well known at En-dor )....

Oh the road to En-dor is the oldest road

And the craziest road of all!

Straight it runs to the Witch's abode,

As it did in the days of Saul,

And nothing has changed of the sorrow in store

For such as go down on the road to En-dor!