Sunday Sonnet

Here is the second part to last week's sonnet.

II. AND AFTER
by Hugh Cuthbert


Where all was Eden, all is Eden-less.
The Garden vanished--earth and sea and sky,
The sunbeams, flowers--even as you and I
All sundered stand in stricken loneliness;
The tangled Paradise a wilderness
Of ordered isolations! The great soul,
Which made of all things one harmonious whole,
Shredded to serve the fragments which caress
The separate being they curse! Nought but the Gate
Remains--fronting our Life as day by day
It seeks the happiness it cast away
To snatch a venomed knowledge. Alas! stern fate--
To find its own discarded innocence
Become a flaming sword to drive it thence.