Classic Poem

O DEAR dark eyes! fresh wells of welcome truth,
Set in a desert world of fraud,
If I might gaze till thirstless, then, in sooth,
I'd ever look and laud.

How oft the coaxing glitter of grey eyes
And blue and hazel lured me on
To trouble me, too simple to surmise
That but a mirage shone.

What bitter pledges have I often quaffed
From pure-appearing wells of wile,
Blaming myself for sourness in the draught
Believing eyes that smile.

And always smile were always good and true.
Until I knew the sometimes sad
Grave eyes are truest, best, and rarest too.
When guileful hearts look glad.

Through fascinating eyes, who is deceived
Finds hid beneath the charming cheat
Sourness more sour, since cunningly bereaved
Of some expected sweet.

But those dark eyes of thine will ne'er delude:
They say what is, or well or ill;
Their pleasure swells communicated good,
Their graveness, with a thrill.

Of sympathy, imparts a fated care
So kindly, half the pain is spared,
For in their depths one sees one does not bear
The bitterness unshared.

O love of mine! if earth should lose her light,
And hope be quenched, and sin seem wise,
Then would I look, while all around was night,
On heaven, through thy dark eyes.