Poems (Denver)/Those Eyes

by Mary Caroline Denver

THOSE EYES.

Have they no bottom to their depths,
 Those eyes, those well-like eyes of thine?
I long to see an image there—
 Perchance I may see mine.

So softly still, so deeply blue,
 Like skies with starry gems inset,
Looking in troubled beauty down,
 They gaze upon one yet.

I would, I would that I might trace
 Some little passion in those eyes—
Might see one single imaged face
 Upon their surface rise!

Like hieroglyphics, traced with care
 On antique monumental stone,
I see a world of meaning there,
 Yet can decipher none.

I've heard it said that eyes were made
 The mirrors of the human soul;
But upon thine a spell is laid;
 Thy heart hath learned control.

Down to thy heart I would look through
 Those telescopic eyes of thine;
Perchance some face might meet my view—
 Perchance I might see mine.