have a little bit of Eden,
An innocence deliberately detained.
Praised be love, that holds the heel of heaven,
Preserving what would else escape from pain,
Yet now renews the heart again, again.
For love depends upon a tended garden
Older than the myth of Adam's fall.
Underneath the usual confusion,
Resisting the implacable illusion
That makes of love a dream beyond recall,
Here it lives within the garden