Adam

When Adam walked in Eden young

Happy, 'tis writ, was he,

While high the fruit of knowledge hung

Unbitten on the tree.

Happy was he the livelong day:

I doubt 'tis written wrong:

The heart of man, for all they say,

Was never happy long.

And now my feet are tired of rest

And here they will not stay

And the soul fevers in my breast

And aches to be away.