In Eden's green retreats,
A water-brook,-that played
Between soft, mossy seats,
Beneath a plane-tree's shade,
Whose rustling leaves
Danced o'er its brink,-
Was Adam's drink,
And also Eve's.
Beside the parent spring
Of that young brook, the pair
Their morning chant would sing;
And Eve, to dress her hair,
Kneel on the grass
That fringed its side,
And make its tide
Her looking-glass.
And, when the man of God
From Egypt led his flock,
They thirsted, and his rod
Smote the Arabian rock,
And forth a rill
Of water gushed,
And on they rushed,
And drank their fill.
Would Eden thus have smiled,
Had wine to Eden come?
Would Horeb's parching wild
Have been refreshed with rum?
And had Eve's hair
Been dressed in gin,
Would she have been
Reflected fair?
Had Moses built a still,
And dealt out to that host,
To every man his gill,
And pledged him in a toast,
Would cooler brains,
Or stronger hands,
Have braved the sands
Of those hot plains?
'Sweet fields, beyond' death's flood
'Stand dressed in living green;'
For, from the throne of God,
To freshen all the scene,
A river rolls,
Where all who will
May come and fill
Their crystal bowls.
If Eden's strength and bloom
Cold Water thus hath given,
If, even beyond the tomb,
It is the drink of heaven,
Are not good wells
And crystal springs
The very things
For our Hotels?