Low Tide on Grand Pré: A Book of Lyrics

by Bliss Carman


 

THE EAVESDROPPER


IN a still room at hush of dawn,
     My Love and I lay side by side
And heard the roaming forest wind
     Stir in the paling autumn-tide.

I watched her earth-brown eyes grow glad
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     Because the round day was so fair;
While memories of reluctant night
     Lurked in the blue dusk of her hair,

Outside, a yellow maple tree,
     Shifting upon the silvery blue
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With small innumerable sound,
     Rustled to let the sunlight through.

The livelong day the elvish leaves
     Danced with their shadows on the floor;
And the lost children of the wind
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     Went straying homeward by our door.

And all the swarthy afternoon
     We watched the great deliberate sun
Walk through the crimsoned hazy world,
     Counting his hilltops one by one.
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Then as the purple twilight came
     And touched the vines along our eaves,
Another Shadow stood without
     And gloomed the dancing of the leaves.

The silence fell on my Love’s lips;
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     Her great brown eyes were veiled and sad
With pondering some maze of dream,
     Though all the splendid year was glad.

Restless and vague as a gray wind
     Her heart had grown, she knew not why.
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But hurrying to the open door,
     Against the verge of western sky

I saw retreating on the hills,
     Looming and sinister and black,
The stealthy figure swift and huge
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     Of One who strode and looked not back.