To the few who love me and whom I love—to those who feel rather than to those who think—to the dreamers and those who put faith in dreams as in the only realities—I offer this Book
of Truths, not in its character of Truth-Teller, but for the Beauty that abounds in its Truth; constituting it true. To these I present the composition as an Art-Product alone:—let
us say as a Romance; or, if I be not urging too lofty a claim, as a Poem. What I here propound is true:—therefore it cannot die:—or if by any means it be now trodden down so that
it die, it will “rise again to the Life Everlasting.”
Nevertheless it is as a Poem only that I wish this work to be judgedafter I am dead.
E. A. P.