'Yet to-day, thou master of Lilith,---
(Alas the hour!)

Wrap me round in the form I'll borrow
And let me tell thee of sweet to-morrow.

'In the planted garden eastward in Eden, (Sing Eden Bower!)

Where the river goes forth to water the garden, The springs shall dry and the soil shall harden.

'Yea, where the bride-sleep fell upon Adam,

(Alas the hour!)

None shall hear when the storm-wind whistles Through roses choked among thorns and thistles.

'Yea, beside the east-gate of Eden,

(Sing Eden Bower!)

Where God joined them and none might sever,

The sword turns this way and that for ever.

'What of Adam cast out of Eden?

(Alas the hour!)

Lo! with care like a shadow shaken,

He tills the hard earth whence he was taken.

'What of Eve too, cast out of Eden?

(Sing Eden Bower!)

Nay, but she, the bride of God's giving,
Must yet be mother of all men living.

'Lo, God's grace, by the grace of Lilith!
(Alas the hour!)

To Eve's womb, from our sweet to-morrow,
God shall greatly multiply sorrow.

'Fold me fast, O God-snake of Eden !

(Sing Eden Bower!)

What more prize than love to impel thee?
Grip and lip my limbs as I tell thee!

'Lo! two babes for Eve and for Adam !
(Alas the hour!)

Lo! sweet Snake, the travail and treasure,-
Two men-children born for their pleasure!

'The first is Cain and the second Abel:

(Sing Eden Bower!)

The soul of one shall be made thy brother,

And thy tongue shall lap the blood of the other.' (Alas the hour!)

THE CARD-DEALER.

COULD you not drink her gaze like wine?
Yet though its splendour swoon

Into the silence languidly

As a tune into a tune,

Those eyes unravel the coiled night

And know the stars at noon.

The gold that's heaped beside her hand,

In truth rich prize it were;

And rich the dreams that wreathe her brows

With magic stillness there;

And he were rich who should unwind

That woven golden hair.

Around her, where she sits, the dance
Now breathes its eager heat;

And not more lightly or more true

Fall there the dancers' feet

Than fall her cards on the bright board

As 'twere an heart that beat.

Her fingers let them softly through,
Smooth polished silent things;

And each one as it falls reflects

In swift light-shadowings,
Blood-red and purple, green and blue,

The great eyes of her rings.

Whom plays she with? With thee, who lov'st

Those gems upon her hand;

With me, who search her secret brows;

With all men, bless'd or bann'd.

We play together, she and we,
Within a vain strange land:

A land without any order,—

Day even as night, (one saith,)Where who lieth down ariseth not

Nor the sleeper awakeneth;

A land of darkness as darkness itself
And of the shadow of death.

What be her cards, you ask? Even these:

The heart, that doth but crave

More, having fed; the diamond,

Skilled to make base seem brave; The club, for smiting in the dark; The spade, to dig a grave.

And do you ask what game she plays?

With me 'tis lost or won;

With thee it is playing still; with him

It is not well begun ;

But 'tis a game she plays with all

Beneath the sway o' the sun.

Thou seest the card that falls,—she knows

The card that followeth :

Her game in thy tongue is called Life,

As ebbs thy daily breath :

When she shall speak, thou'lt learn her tongue

And know she calls it Death.