"O man, O woman, grievest so?"

O man, O woman, grievest so?
Art shut away from all delight,
And must thou leave this garden plot?
O Eve, O Adam, question not.
The God is kind who would be cruel.
He does not know the hearts he made.
Turn unreluctant to the shade,
To bitterest struggle, darkest night;
man, O woman, happier so.