According to Rabbinical tradition, Lilith was the first wife of Adam, but he couldn't put up with her temper and cast her out.

She is a whisper on the streets
flouncing in her green gown,
searching in the jostling crowd
the materials for her cauldron,
for those whose eyes betray a longing:
of unrequited love or hopeless yearning.
Then in the country she stirs a recollection
soft as light fading along a shore
where water sips a clear lake's brim
while the last of the evening breeze sighs
among the trees; this phantom woman
who has lost her love, paddling among
the stones along the sharp-flinted margins,
delivered from oblivion even before
the first stars appeared above
that darkling hill, which is topped by a lost crown,
as she wanders a world that is drifting quietly to sleep.

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