Life-yielding fragrance of our Mother Earth!
Benignant breath exhaled from summer showers!—
All Nature dimples into smiles of flowers,
From unclosed woodland to trim garden girth:—
These perfumes softening the harsh soul of dearth
Are older than old Shinar's arrogant towers,—
And touched with visions of rain-freshened hours,
On Syrian hill-slopes ere the Patriarch's birth!
Nay! the charmed fancy plays a subtler part!—
Lo! banished Adam, his large, wondering eyes
Fixed on the trouble of the first dark cloud!
Lo! tremulous Eve,—a pace behind, how bowed,—
Not dreaming, 'midst her painful pants of heart,
What balm shall fall from yonder ominous cloud!