The Death of Adam

'T was Adam at the gates of Paradise;

Sick with the world's first sickness, prostrate, pale,

Low lay he, in his pain. And they made wail

That stood by him: " O father, dim your eyes

And filmed; they cannot see the dreadful skies.

Across the heavens black cloud-wings reach and sail,

And prowling shadow crouches in the vale.

What burden, father, on the hurt earth lies? "

" I hunger, wife and children, for the bough

Whereof I ate. Go thou, swift-footed Seth,

And pluck from that sweet tree. " —

With eyes mist-dim

He looked on it. " Nay, wife, nay, children, now

Is here the one He spake of to me, — Death;

With hollow voice he bids me follow him. "