Down the palm-way from Eden in the mid-night Lay dreaming Eve by her outdriven mate, Pillowed on lilies that still told the sweet Of birth within the Garden's ecstasy.
Pitiful round her face that could not lose Its memory of God's perfecting was strewn Her troubled hair, and sigh grieved after sigh Along her loveliness in the white moon.
Then sudden her dream, too cruelly impent With pain, broke and a cry fled shuddering Into the wounded stillness from her lips — As, cold, she fearfully felt for his hand,
And tears, that had before ne'er visited Her lids with anguish, drew from her the moan: “Oh, Adam! What have I dreamed? Now do I understand His words, so dim
To creatures that had quivered but with bliss! Since at the dusk thy kiss to me, and I Wept at caresses that were once all joy, I have slept, seeing through Futurity
The uncreated ages visibly! Foresuffering phantoms crowded in the womb Of Time, and all with lamentable mien Accusing without mercy, thee and me!
And without pity! for tho’ some were far From birth, and without name, others were near — Sodom and dark Gomorrah — from whose flames Fleeing one turned... how like her look to mine
When the tree's horror trembled on my taste! And Babylon upbuilded on our sin; And Nineveh, a city sinking slow Under a shroud of sandy centuries
That hid me not from the buried cursing eyes Of women who e'er-bitterly gave birth! Ah, to be mother of all misery! To be first-called out of the earth and fail
For a whole world! To shame maternity For women evermore — women whose tears Flooding the night, no hope can wipe away! To see the wings of Death, as, Adam, thou
Hast not, endlessly beating, and to hear The swooning ages suffer up to God! And Oh, that birth-cry of a guiltless child In it are sounding of our sin and woe,
With prophesy of ill beyond all years! Yearning for beauty never to be seen — Beatitude redeemless evermore! “And I whose dream mourned with all motherhood
Must hear it soon! Already do soft skill, Assuasive lulls, enticings and quick tones Of tenderness — that will like light awake The folded memory children shall bring
Out of the dark — move in me longingly. Yet thou, Adam, dear fallen thought of God, Thou, when thou too shall hear humanity Cry in thy child, wilt groaning wish the world
Back in unsummoned Void! and, woe! wilt fill God's ear with troubled wonder and unrest!” Softly he soothed her straying hair, and kissed The fever from her lips. Over the palms
The sad moon poured her peace into their eyes, Till Sleep, the angel of forgetfulness, Folded again dark wings above their rest.
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