Had I been Adam in Eden-glade
  I should have climbed the wall
Or ever the Woman found the fruit,
  Crimson and ripe to fall.

For though the garden be Paradise,
  Gardens are little worth
To one who thirsts for the wilderness
  Lonely in all the earth.

So out of the garden greenery
  Heavy with jasmine scent
And past the slumbering gentle beasts
  I would go forth content.