SOME dust of Eden eddies round us yet. Some clay o' the Garden, clinging in the breast, Down near the heart yet bides unmanifest. Last eve in gardens strange to me I let The path lead far; and, lo, my vision met Old, forfeit hopes. I, as on homeward quest, By recognizing trees was bidden rest, And pitying leaves looked down and sighed, "Forget." | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...I'M GOING BACK TO SOMETHING by DAVID IGNATOW THE RIVALS by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON |