At dusk, the speaker repeats the same melancholy ritual: walking the same path, sitting on the same rock, watching the sun drop through the same colors and the cedar tree darken against the sky. Then two stars appear above the tree, and she feels them as eyes—unfathomable, soul-searing—watching her. These are the eyes of her regret. They pull her outside against her will and keep her there late into the night, lonely and still. The poem creates a heavy, almost hypnotic mood. The repetition of “the same” and the relentless watching make regret feel inescapable, like something that returns every evening and refuses to let her go. She isn’t crying or dramatic; she is numb, tired, and trapped in a quiet, private grief.
The Eyes of My Regret — Summary
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.