"Rest you here, enchanter, while the light fades, 

Vision narrows, and the far

 Sky-edge is gone with the sun.

 Be content with the small spark 

Of the coal, the smell 

Of food, and the breath 

Of frost beyond the shut door. 

Home is here, and familiar things; 

A cup, a wooden bowl, a blanket, 

Prayer, a gift for the god, and sleep. 

(And music, says the harp, And music.)" 

Rest here, enchanter, while the fire dies.

 In a breath, in an eyelid's fall, 

You will see them, the dreams; 

The sword and the young king, 

The white horse and the running water, 

The lit lamp and the boy smiling. 

Dreams, dreams, enchanter! Gone With the harp's echo when the strings 

Fall mute; with the flame's shadow when the fire 


Be still, and listen. 

Far on the black air Blows the great wind, rises 

The running tide, flows the clear river.

 Listen, enchanter, hear 

Through the black air and the singing air 

The music . . . ."

The Last Enchantment by Mary Stewart



To the Merlin of my heart who has always shown me compassion, love, and generosity. A man of honor and principles, Of trust and faithfulness. To my soul mate now and forever through the ages.