Carol and Cadence :: :: University of Virginia Library

In the Springtide of Creation,
When the stars in heaven were new
And the sun and moon their station
Took in the astonished blue,
When new flowers, each morning springing,
Crowded on the ravished sight
And the blossomed hours fled, singing,
Through the blissful day and night,

When the haggard earth rejoiced yet
In the flush of love and ruth
And with virgin lips Life voiced yet
All the ecstasies of youth,

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Ere the thought of Time that passes
Filled and saddened all the air,
Ere the flowers and trees and grasses
Shrivelled from the smoke of care,

When our greybeard world yet young was,
When, no Future to affray,
On the blissful Present strung was
Happy day to happy day,
When the year had no December
And no canker marred the rose,
I was Adam, I remember;
But who Eve was, Heaven knows.

I was Adam; yes, I feel it,
Whether you were Eve or not.
Nay, my dreams anights reveal it
And by day each garden-plot
Brings me back the airs of Eden,
With its flowers and birds' descant.
What says Heine? “Krieg und Frieden,
“Hab' ich alles schon gekannt.”

All I've felt of pain and pleasure,
All Life's sweet and bitter things:
As from some forgotten treasure,
Forth remembrance to me brings
Glimpses of the garden closes
Where in endless May I dwelt,
Fragrance of their faded roses,
All I thought and all I felt;

All the bliss and all the longing
For Elysium known and lost
On my soul come flooding, thronging,
All the sin and all the cost.

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Ay, the angel at the portal
I remember and the lot,
That from deathless made me mortal.
Only Eve have I forgot.

Were you Eve, I wonder, darling?
Ah, you smile and will not say.
Yet what was it piped the starling,
Perching yonder on the spray?
“Show her apples, ('Tis September)
“Red against the green aglow.
“Haply, yet she will remember
“Whether she was Eve or no.”

By the Snake's eternal stigma,
On your curling lip that plays,
Through your silent smile's enigma,
Now I see it, as you gaze
On the fruits, the leaves that dapple
With their gold and crimson sheen;
You it was that plucked the apple,
Woman-like, and plucked it green.

Yes, my Eve you were for certain;
'Twas your vain and curious hand
After me the flaming curtain
Drew, that barred the Promised Land;
You it was that had the guerdon;
I had nothing but the fret:
Yet, in fine, I bear the burden;
I remember. You forget.