It chanced that day, lured by the verdure, came
Zophiel, a spirit sometime ill, but, ere
He fell, a heavenly angel.
And now he wanders on from glade to glade
To where more precious shrubs diffuse their balms;
And gliding through the thickly-woven shade,
Where the soft captive lay in all her charms,
He caught a glimpse. The colors in her face,
Her bare, white arms, her lips, her shining hair,
Burst on his view. He would have flown the place,
Fearing some faithful angel rested there,
Who'd see him, reft of glory, lost to bliss,
Wandering, and miserably panting, fain
To glean a joy e'en from a place like this;
The thought of what he once had been was pain
Ineffable. But what assailed the ear?
A sigh? Surprised, another glance he took;
Then doubting, fearing, softly coming near,
He ventured to her side, and dared to look,
Whispering, Yes, 'tis of earth; so new-found life
Refreshing, looked sweet Eve, with purpose fell,
When first Sin's sovereign gazed on her.
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