Eve

I am the wife of Adam, Eve;
    For my transgression Jesus died;
I stole Heaven from those I leave;
    ’Tis me they should have crucified.

Dreadful was the choice I made,
    I who was once a mighty queen; 
Dreadful, too, the price I paid—
    Woe, my hand is still unclean!

I plucked the apple from the spray
    Because of greed I could not rule;
Even until their final day
    Women still will play the fool.

Ice would not be anywhere,
    Wild white winter would not be;
There would be no hell, no fear
    And no sorrow but for me.


Source: Frank O'Connor; The Little Monasteries; Dublin; Dolmen
Press; 1963, 1976 (1976 ed.); p.42