O SWEET blue eyes, the poets sing
(And so their strain comes back to me), -
Liken them not to anything,
Blue eyes too sweet to be!
For on whatever way I tread,
Twin lights of life and love, they shine;.
The eyes that watch the dreamless dead
Seem nowise more divine.
Discerning in their trusting gaze
All hopes of unforgotten youth,
I love them more than in past days
For their own love's sweet truth.
And sometimes glad their glances are
Of youth's full sweetness blithe with morn,
And sometimes serious, fixt afar -
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