by W. H. Rhodes
[Decoration]
IV.
_FOR AN ALBUM._
When first our father, Adam, sinned Against the will of Heaven, And forth from Eden's happy gates A wanderer was driven, He paused beside a limpid brook, That through the garden ran, And, gazing in its mirrored wave, Beheld himself--_a man_!
God's holy peace no longer beamed In brightness from his eye; But in its depths dark passions blazed, Like lightnings in the sky. Young Innocence no longer wreathed His features with her smile; But Sin sat there in scorched dismay, Like some volcanic isle.
No longer radiant beauty shone Upon his manly brow; But care had traced deep furrows there, With stern misfortune's plow. Joy beamed no longer from his face; His step was sad and slow; His heart was heavy with its grief; His bosom with its woe.
Whilst gazing at his altered form Within the mirrored brook, He spied an angel leaning o'er, With pity in her look. He turned, distrustful of his sight, Unwilling to believe, When, lo! in Heaven's own radiance smiled, His sweet companion, Eve!
Fondly he clasped her to his heart, And blissfully he cried, "What tho' I've lost a Paradise, I've gained an angel bride! No flowers in Eden ever bloomed, No! not in heaven above, Sweeter than woman brings to man-- Her friendship, truth, and love!"
These buds were brought by Adam's bride, Outside of Eden's gate, And scattered o'er the world; _to them_ This book I dedicate.
[Decoration]