Coates Kinney

Eyes

When from the night where no dreams are,
  Life’s dawning rays begin,
Then woman’s eye, the morning star,
  Is there to tremble in.

The wings of Memory are set
  With eyes of every hue
That eyes may be, from merry jet
  To melancholy blue.

The first bright pair that clung my heart,
  As magnet clings the steel,
Had each a flashing, wicked dart
  Their black could not conceal.

The next, which lay upon my soul,
  Like moonlight globes of dew,
Death’s angel all their heaven stole,
  To make the sky more blue.

The next were hazel: they were lit
  At passion’s hottest flame;
Whomever once their glory smit,
  Forgot his very name.

The next were like the gray of sky,
  Ere breaks the beamy light;
The flame of love, like dawn was nigh,
  Though bosomed out of sight.

The next song can not paint their hue;
  Their orbs, which toward me roll
Nor brown, nor gray, nor black, nor blue
  Are of the hue of soul!

When into night where mysteries are,
  Life’s lingering sunbeams fade,
Then woman’s eye, the evening star,
  Illumes the solemn shade.