As you love me, you never loved before? Though oft you say it, say it yet once more. My heart is jealous of those days of yore.
Sweet wife, dear comrade, mother of my child, My life is yours by memory undefiled. (It stirs again, that passion brief and wild.)
You never knew a happier hour than this? We two alone, our hearts surcharged with bliss, Nor other kisses, sweet as my own kiss?
I was a thirsty field, long parched with drouth; You were the warm rain, blowing from the south. (But, ah, the crimson madness of _her_ mouth!)
You would not, if you could, go down life’s track For just one little moment and bring back Some vanished rapture that you miss or lack?
I am content. You are my life, my all. (One burning hour, but one, could I recall; God, how men lie when driven to the wall!)
With brooding mien and sultry eyes, Outside the gates of Paradise Eve sat, and fed the faggot flame That lit the path whence Adam came. (Strange are the workings of a woman’s mind.)
His giant shade preceded him, Along the pathway green, and dim; She heard his swift approaching tread, But still she sat with drooping head. (Dark are the jungles of unhappy thought.)
He kissed her mouth, and gazed within Her troubled eyes; for since their sin, His love had grown a thousand fold. But Eve drew back; her face was cold. (Oh, who can read the cipher of a soul.)
‘Now art thou mourning still, sweet wife?’ Spake Adam tenderly, ‘the life Of our lost Eden? Why, in _thee_ All Paradise remains for me.’ (Deep, deep the currents in a strong man’s heart.)
Thus Eve: ‘Nay, not lost Eden’s bliss I mourn; for heavier woe than this Wears on me with one thought accursed. _In Adam’s life I am not first_. (O woman’s mind! what hells are fashioned there.)
‘The serpent whispered Lilith’s name: (’Twas thus he drove me to my shame) Pluck yonder fruit, he said, and know, How Adam loved _her_, long ago. (Fools, fools, who wander searching after pain.)
‘I ate; and like an ancient scroll, I saw that other life unroll; I saw thee, Adam, far from here With Lilith on a wondrous sphere. (Bold, bold, the daring of a jealous heart.)
‘Nay, tell me not I dreamed it all; Last night in sleep thou didst let fall Her name in tenderness; I bowed My stricken head and cried aloud. (Vast, vast the torment of a self-made woe.)