Always at dusk, the same tearless experience, The same dragging of feet up the same well-worn path To the same well-worn rock; The same crimson or gold dropping away of the sun, The same tints - rose, saffron, violet, lavender, grey, Meeting, mingling, mixing mistily; Before me the same blue black cedar rising jaggedly to a point; Over it, the same slow unlidding of twin stars, Two eyes unfathomable, soul-searing, Watching, watching - watching me; The same two eyes that draw me forth, against my will dusk after dusk; The same two eyes that keep me sitting late into the night, chin on knees, Keep me there lonely, rigid, tearless, numbly miserable, - The eyes of my Regret. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...BALLADE OF SCHOPENHAUER'S PHILOSOPHY by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS MYRMIDONES: THE WOUNDED EAGLE by AESCHYLUS ANACREON by ANTIPATER OF SIDON VERMONT WILD FLOWERS IN AUGUST by DANIEL LEAVENS CADY WAITING THE CHANGE by PHOEBE CARY |