THE PARTING

Driven away from Eden's gate

With biasing falchions fenced about,

Into a desert desolate,

A miserable pair came out,

To meet their fate.

To wander in a world of woe,

To ache and starve, to burn and shiver,

With every living thing their foe —

The fire of God above, the river

Of death below.

Of home, of hope, of Heaven bereft;

It is the destiny of man

To cower beneath his Maker's ban,

And hide from his own theft!

The father of a world unborn —

Who hath begotten death, ere life —

In sullen silence plods forlorn;

His love and pride in his fair wife

Are rage and scorn.

Instead of Angel ministers,

What hath he now but fiends devouring;

Instead of grapes and melons, burs;

In lieu of manna, crab and souring —

By whose fault? Hers!

Alack, good sire of feeble knees,

New penance waits thee; since — when thus

Thou shouldst have wept for all of us —

Thou mournest thine own ease I

The mother of all loving wives

( Condemned unborn to many a tear )

Is fain to take his hand, and strives

In sorrow to be doubly dear —

But shame deprives.

The shame, the woe, the black surprise,

That love's first dream should have such ending,

To weep, and wipe neglected eyes I

Oh loss of true love, far transcending

Lost Paradise!

For is it faith, that cannot live

One gloomy hour, and soar above

The clouds of fate? And is it love,

That will not e'en forgive?

The houseless monarch of the earth

Hath quickly found what empire means;

For while he scoffs with bitter mirth,

And curses, after Eden's scenes,

This dreary dearth.

A snake, that twined in playful zeal,

But yester morn, around his ankle,

Now driven along the dust to steal,

Steals up, and leaves its venom'd rankle

Deep in his heel.

He groans awhile. He seeks anon

For comfort to this first of pain,

Where all his sons to-day are fain;

He seeks — but Eve is gone!