When the ink has dried on the pen,

When the sword returns to its sheath;

When the world of women and men,

And the waters around and beneath,

Char and shrivel and burn—

What will God give in return?...

Has He better to offer in heaven above

Than wine and music, laughter and love?

Laughter, music and wine,

The promise of love in your eyes ...

Sleeping, I dream them mine;

Waking, my spirit cries—

Here in the mud and the rain—

“God, give me London again!

I would lose all earth and the heavens above

For just one banquet of laughter and love.”

When my flesh returns to its earth,

When my pen is dust as my sword;

If one thing I wrought find worth

In the eyes of our kindly Lord,

I will only ask of His grace

That He grant us a lowly place

Where his warriors toast Him, in heaven above,

With wine and music, laughter and love.