God made a Garden first for Man
Where He and Man might walk together,
Before the bitter days began
And when 'twas always perfect weather;
A Garden full of fruit and flowers,
The butterfly, the bee, the dew;
Man had enough in those sweet bowers
Before the old snake wriggled through.
But when poor Man was driven away,
Hobbled and sad, from those bright portals,
When there was nothing more to say
Between the stript unhappy mortals;
When Eve went shivering in the wind,
With all her sweetness nipt by frost,
God put it into Adam's mind
To build a House; so all's not lost!
'Twas built of clay and wattled boughs.
So comfortable 'twas, the creeping
Out of the rain into their House,
To dream of Eden in their sleeping.
He taught them next to capture Fire,—
The wild sprite of the roaring storm,
And tether him to their desire
Upon a hearthstone bright and warm.
Yet there was something incomplete;
They wept for their remembered blisses;
Till God slipt something wondrous sweet
Betwixt His anger and their kisses:
The Woman shall make Home: He said:
With children, and the hearth-fires burning,
And with her bosom for his bed
My Adam praise Me night and morning.
Katharine Tynan. Late Songs. London: Sidgwick & Jackson, 1917.