Eden
And there, beneath an ancient tree, Where bright and golden fruits should be, The pale, dead, drooping flowers grow; And nature, as if in sorrow slow, Is whispering to the leaves that blow.
- John G Whittier
Eden
And there, beneath an ancient tree, Where bright and golden fruits should be, The pale, dead, drooping flowers grow; And nature, as if in sorrow slow, Is whispering to the leaves that blow.