 | Claribel and Other Poems |  |
EVE
Flung out of Eden, and my child is Cain.
Woe, woe is me!
I have pluck'd knowledge, and I find it pain.
Love hath made me accurst: since all the gain
Of self is misery.
Woe, woe is me!
I have pluck'd knowledge, and I find it pain.
Love hath made me accurst: since all the gain
Of self is misery.
O fierce desire that would not let me rest!
O lovely snake—
Thou subtilest beast, that with thy low behest
Lured me from innocence!—From good to best
My way I take.
O lovely snake—
Thou subtilest beast, that with thy low behest
Lured me from innocence!—From good to best
My way I take.
For innocence is not the best, though good.
Thy gates are shut,
Sweet Eden!—I return not if I could.
Better, O Man! hard labour and scant food
In this poor hut.
Thy gates are shut,
Sweet Eden!—I return not if I could.
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In this poor hut.
From innocence through sorrow and much wrong
Our pathway lies.
Only by suffering doth the soul grow strong.
Leave we the lower creatures, the vile throng
Of sense. Arise!
Our pathway lies.
Only by suffering doth the soul grow strong.
Leave we the lower creatures, the vile throng
Of sense. Arise!
Forth to the desert! We will plant out there
A garden brave.
This doom of death, this darkness of despair,
Is the shadow of higher Love. And look thou where
He bursts the grave.
A garden brave.
This doom of death, this darkness of despair,
Is the shadow of higher Love. And look thou where
He bursts the grave.
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