Verdant the fields of Eden,
As so gracefully, gracefully then,
Swayed the fine scarlet-rose petals,
That tinted the mead so fair red,
Adorning the rosy meadow bed.
There ever rising, the golden sun,
Shone with gilt-adorn'd lustre,
Upon the unrivall'd rosal cluster,
That ended in one ever-green forest.
Like towering crowd it proudly stood,
All grey and green the lofty wood,
Its vast trunks and leaves introducing,
Until the fine white gossamers,
Of multitude of small web-spinners,
Made way till much deeper nature.
And from within the mossy verdure,
A mountain rivulet, pure streaming,
Emerged from some forgotten pond,
Which then with all azure lur'd,
Attracting the beings most abhor'd.
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