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.