The Lost Eden
Love taught me, then, the one way to woo her—
In the golden days when the world was young—
And all of my soul I gave unto her,
And all of my songs for her were sung.
(Heart of my heart! my soul's undoing,
I charge against thee, in my bitterness,
For I lost my soul in thy soul's wooing—
And I would to god I could love thee less!)
We dwelt in an eden of our own making—
My love and I, in those dear dead days—
And we dreamed bright dreams ere the fatal waking,
And joy walked with us in all our ways.
(Soul of my soul, wilt thou ever Cherish
That too-brief day when true love was king?
Ah! would that my yearning for thee might perish,
With the fierce fond pain of its finishing!)
Sweet was our Eden, and fair our bower—
In the highest heaven no fairer place—
The birds sang to us, and every flower
Seemed made in the image of her fair face.
(Heart of my heart, thy love was a guerdon
Greater than all the world could give—
Yet it weareth me now like a heavy burden
That will weigh me down all the years I live!)
Aye, fair were the closes where our love centered—
But brief was the time that we dwelt therein—
For into our Eden one day there entered
A serpent as loathsome as nameless sin!
(Soul of my soul, dost thou not remember,
In the book of books, what the wise one saith?
Each eye of the snake is a burning ember,
And the tough of his fangs is worse than death.)
All the evil of earth in the snake's eyes glistened—
Glistened and burned as with hell's own flame.
And my love? She was Lured to his side, and listened,
Listened, and lingered, and felt no shame.
(Heart of my heart! my soul confesses
I love thee yet, to the uttermost!
And I feel thy lips in their warm caresses,
Like the blighting touch of an unlaid ghost.)
She lingered and listened, my tender flower,
Nor heeded my plea that she stand apart;
And that was the end of our eden bower,
And this is the end of our dream, my heart.
(Death of my life! my soul's undoing
Against thee I charge in my bitterness,
For I lost my soul in thy soul's wooing!
Ah! God, dear God, let me love her less!)
In the golden days when the world was young—
And all of my soul I gave unto her,
And all of my songs for her were sung.
(Heart of my heart! my soul's undoing,
I charge against thee, in my bitterness,
For I lost my soul in thy soul's wooing—
And I would to god I could love thee less!)
We dwelt in an eden of our own making—
My love and I, in those dear dead days—
And we dreamed bright dreams ere the fatal waking,
And joy walked with us in all our ways.
(Soul of my soul, wilt thou ever Cherish
That too-brief day when true love was king?
Ah! would that my yearning for thee might perish,
With the fierce fond pain of its finishing!)
Sweet was our Eden, and fair our bower—
In the highest heaven no fairer place—
The birds sang to us, and every flower
Seemed made in the image of her fair face.
(Heart of my heart, thy love was a guerdon
Greater than all the world could give—
Yet it weareth me now like a heavy burden
That will weigh me down all the years I live!)
Aye, fair were the closes where our love centered—
But brief was the time that we dwelt therein—
For into our Eden one day there entered
A serpent as loathsome as nameless sin!
(Soul of my soul, dost thou not remember,
In the book of books, what the wise one saith?
Each eye of the snake is a burning ember,
And the tough of his fangs is worse than death.)
All the evil of earth in the snake's eyes glistened—
Glistened and burned as with hell's own flame.
And my love? She was Lured to his side, and listened,
Listened, and lingered, and felt no shame.
(Heart of my heart! my soul confesses
I love thee yet, to the uttermost!
And I feel thy lips in their warm caresses,
Like the blighting touch of an unlaid ghost.)
She lingered and listened, my tender flower,
Nor heeded my plea that she stand apart;
And that was the end of our eden bower,
And this is the end of our dream, my heart.
(Death of my life! my soul's undoing
Against thee I charge in my bitterness,
For I lost my soul in thy soul's wooing!
Ah! God, dear God, let me love her less!)
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