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?