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When man provoked his mortal doom, And Eden trembled as he fell, When blossoms sighed their last perfume, And branches waved their long farewell, One sucker crept beneath the gate, One seed was wafted o'er the wall, One bough sustained his trembling weight; These left the garden,--these were all.
And far o'er many a distant zone These wrecks of Eden still are flung The fruits that Paradise hath known Are still in earthly gardens hung.
Yes, by our own unstoried stream The pink-white apple-blossoms burst That saw the young Euphrates gleam,-- That Gihon's circling waters nursed.
For us the ambrosial pear--displays The wealth its arching branches hold, Bathed by a hundred summery days In floods of mingling fire and gold.
And here, where beauty's cheek of flame With morning's earliest beam is fed, The sunset-painted peach may claim To rival its celestial red.
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