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Poems (Greenwell)/To an Early Friend

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4521777Poems — To an Early FriendDora Greenwell
TO AN EARLY FRIEND. 
     Beneath the tree we played Together, Thou and I! the sunshine fell Betwixt the boughs, and on our faces laid A loving finger, marking, where it strayed, A Dial for the hours, whose very shade Was but a softened brightness, for the place Wherein we dwelt was Eden! Through the wild The man must journey, yet methinks the child Should stay within the garden! with the Race Should run the mortal's history, and trace From those blest bowers its chequered chronicle!
     We played beneath the Tree; We did not pluck the apple; little taste Was ours for fruit of knowledge! little haste To lift unbidden hands when ours were full Of flowers and purpled berries, beautiful, That grew around us; but the apple fell Beside our feet, and through its sight and smell Instructed, now we good and evil knew,—So must we bid that pleasant place Farewell.
     Yet well for us that there We dwelt awhile! oh, well for us to make Acquaintance soon with all things glad and fair; To have them for our earliest friends! to take These playmates to our bosoms ere more stern Companions meet us, for they oft return And hold us by the hand, and for the sake Of Eden love us! Now its Angel knows Our faces through all change, and oft from far Hath smiled upon us kind; he will not close The gate so surely, but that Love ajar Hath held it for a space, and Dreams aside Have turned the Flaming Sword, and been our Guide O'er half-forgotten tracks; and on the wind, Like kisses blown upon it, greetings kind Send whispers after us, to half recall Half-presage glories, that no Primal Fall Hath robbed us of; for Heaven had been less near Had we not gazed up to it through the clear Calm eastern skies, that, waking or asleep,Bent o'er us in our childhood like a deep Unvexed, unfathomed sea, when it was Prayer To know, that day and night upon us there Our Father's eyes looked down;
     "Our Father!" First And Last in Love's blest language! we were nurst Within Thy breast, Thy sapphire floor for roof Was over us; and now less far aloof We view Thy awful Throne, that then we played Beneath Thy footstool, and were not afraid!
     And well for me that there We played together! in my heart, thy Book Beloved from olden days, thou wouldst not look So oft or fondly, maybe, flung aside With childish things, but for its margin wide With pictures stored I Yet now we will not take This love of ours to pieces; who would strew A blossom, leaf by leaf, to learn it grew As grow the flowers? Now love me for the sake Of blessed Eden; if thou wilt, believe Me fairer than I am! it will not grieve My soul to borrow of thy wealth, and be Attired in splendour that belongs to Thee: Thou givest freely, for the heart is wise And bountiful and rich; with naked eyes It seeth never; like a child that takes Some thing of little price that nearest lies To be its treasure, well content it makes From out its very joy its Paradise!