1 When we come to the end of the furrow,
2 When our last day's work is done, 
3 We will drink of the long red shaft of light
4 That slants from the westering sun.

5 We will turn from the field of our labour, 
6 From the warm earth glad and brown, 
7 And wend our feet up that village street, 
8 And with our folk lie down.

9 Yea, after the long toil, surcease, 
10 Rest to the hearts that roam, 
11 When we join in the mystic silence of eve
12 The glad procession home.