In the solemn twilight, centuries ago,

God walked in His Garden, all His stars below;

God was very lonely, so He caused to grow

Man, in some ways like Him, centuries ago.

Man roamed through the twilight, centuries ago,

Always thinking, thinking—wishing he might know

Who it was that made him; then God caused to

grow

Woman, who was half-God, centuries ago.

These, within God's Garden, centuries ago,

Stood beneath the twilight calling very low

To some voice to answer, whereby they might

know

Had God really made them—centuries ago.

Thus whilst they were listening, centuries ago,

Solemn feet drew nigh them, treading very slow;

Solemn hands so touched them that they caused to

grow

Something that was All-God, centuries ago.

Then they left God's Garden, centuries ago.

Scarcely dared to question, never hoped to know,

Who it was that touched them, causing thus to

grow

That small child, so like them—centuries ago.