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...SWITZERLAND AND ITALY by RICHARD MONCKTON MILNES SUMMER NIGHT, RIVERSIDE by SARA TEASDALE BEAUREGARD by CATHERINE ANNE WARFIELD THE VOICE IN THE GLOAMING by WILLIAM ALLAN TO A WILD DUCK by BERNICE GIBBS ANDERSON THE ANSWER by IRMA LITTELL BOICE SANDY STAR: 2. LAUGHING IT OUT by WILLIAM STANLEY BRAITHWAITE OBSERVATIONS IN THE ART OF ENGLISH POESY: 1 by THOMAS CAMPION |