English poem
Iv
by R. D. Blackmore (1825–1900)
The houseless monarch of the earth Hath quickly found what empire means; For while he scoffs with bitter mirth, And curses, after Eden's scenes, This dreary dearth.
A snake, that twined in playful zeal, But yester morn, around his ankle, Now driven along the dust to steal, Steals up, and leaves its venom'd rankle Deep in his heel.
He groans awhile. He seeks anon For comfort to this first of pain, Where all his sons to-day are fain; He seeks--but Eve is gone!