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 In The Cool Of The Evening by James Stephens 
						I thought I heard Him calling. Did you hear A sound, a little sound? My curious ear
 Is dinned with flying noises, and the tree
 Goes -- whisper, whisper, whisper silently
 Till all its whispers spread into the sound
 Of a dull roar. Lie closer to the ground,
 The shade is deep and He may pass us by.
 We are so very small, and His great eye,
 Customed to starry majesties, may gaze
 Too wide to spy us hiding in the maze;
 Ah, misery! the sun has not yet gone
 And we are naked: He will look upon
 Our crouching shame, may make us stand upright
 Burning in terror -- O that it were night!
 He may not come . . . what! listen, list now --
 He is here! lie closer . . . Adam, where art thou?
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