TO THE garden, the world, anew ascending,Potent mates, daughters, sons, preluding,The love, the life of their bodies, meaning and being,Curious, here behold my resurrection, after slumber;The revolving cycles, in their wide sweep, having brought me again,Amorous, mature—all beautiful to me—all wondrous;My limbs, and the quivering fire that ever plays through them, for reasons, most wondrous;Existing, I peer and penetrate still,Content with the present—content with the past,By my side, or back of me, Eve following,Or in front, and I following her just the same.