The Story as I Understand It

I think that Eve first told the callow Tree of apples, 
And taught the adolescent Serpent how to hiss 
Its first wise word. 
I think the Angel with the Flaming Sword 
Followed her with hot holy eyes, 
Remembering the red curve of her kiss 
As she passed out of Paradise.

See, how the apple-boughs are twisted in their pain, 
Weighed down with many a red-cheeked little Cain, 
And how the serpent writhes away 
From man to this far day. 
An angel is a lovely lonely thing 
Of boundless wing. 
They are the banished ones that grieve;
Not Eve!

Not Eve, her body quick with coming pride, 
Nor Adam walking there at her white side—
A little heavily perhaps, 
Because of things scarce known, 
As yet not named:
New tenderness for Eve, but not for Eve alone, 
Fears not yet fears—
And out beyond, the world untamed 
Of which to make 
Their surer paradise of tears!

But in the Garden is a hallowed emptiness 
Of laws, forgotten now, 
Concerning fruit and flowers,
That none shall ever bless 
Or break;
And in the Garden is the one plucked Bough
That blossoms whimpering 
Through a divine monotony
Of Spring on spring.