Renascence

We have bit no forbidden apple,
    Eve and I,
Yet the splashes of day and night
Falling round us no longer dapple
The same Eden with purple and white.

This is our own still valley
    Our Eden, our home,
But day shows it vivid with feeling
And the pallor of night does not tally
With dark sleep that once covered its ceiling.

My little red heifer, to-night I looked in her eyes,
    --She will calve to-morrow:
Last night when I went with the lantern, the sow was grabbing her
litter
With red, snarling jaws: and I heard the cries
Of the new-born, and after that, the old owl, then the bats that
flitter.

And I woke to the sound of the wood-pigeons, and lay and listened,
    Till I could borrow
A few quick beats of a wood-pigeon's heart, and when I did rise
The morning sun on the shaken iris glistened,
And I saw that home, this valley, was wider than Paradise.

I learned it all from my Eve
    This warm, dumb wisdom.
She's a finer instructress than years;
She has taught my heart-strings to weave
Through the web of all laughter and tears.

And now I see the valley
    Fleshed all like me
With feelings that change and quiver:
And all things seem to tally
    With something in me,
Something of which she's the giver.

Biography | Poems | Best Poems | Short Poems | Quotes | Email Poem |

Poems are below...