Poems (Jackson)/Her Eyes

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4579634Poems — Her EyesHelen Hunt Jackson
HER EYES.
THAT they are brown, no man will dare to say
He knows. And yet I think that no man's look
Ever those depths of light and shade forsook,
Until their gentle pain warned him away.
Of all sweet things I know but one which may
Be likened to her eyes.
Be likened to her eyes.When, in deep nook
Of some green field, the water of a brook
Makes lingering, whirling eddy in its way,
Round soft drowned leaves; and in a flash of sun
They turn to gold, until the ripples run
Now brown, now yellow, changing as by some
Swift spell.
Swift spell.I know not with what body come
The saints. But this I know, my Paradise
Will mean the resurrection of her eyes.