'TIS played with eyes; one uttered word Would cast the game away. As silent as a sailing bird, The shift and change of play. So many eyes to me are dear, So many do me bless; The hazel, deep as deep wood-mere Where leaves are flutterless; The brown that most bewildereth With dusking, golden play Of shadows like betraying breath From some shy, hidden, day; The black whose torch is ever trimmed, Let starts be soon or late; The blue, a morning never dimmed, Opposing Heaven to fate; The grey as soft as farthest skies That hold horizon rain; Or when, steel-darkling, stoic-wise, They bring the gods again; And wavelit eyes of nameless glow, Fed from far-risen streams; But oh, the eyes, the eyes that know The silent game of dreams! Three times I've played. Once 'twas a child, Lap-held, not half a year From Heaven, looked at me and smiled, And far I went with her. Out past the twilight gates of birth, And past Time's blindfold day, Beyond the star-ring of the earth, We found us room to play. And once a woman, spent and old With unavailing tears, Who from her hair's down-tangled fold Shook out the grey-blown years, Sat by the trampled way alone, And lifted eyes—what themes! I could not pass, I sat me down To play the game of dreams. And once ... a poet's eyes they were, Though earth heard not is strain; And since he went no eyes can stir My own to play again. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE OLD MEN by WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS ON THE EXPECTED GENERAL RISING OF THE FRENCH NATION IN 1792 by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD THE SLEEP by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING WHISTLE, AND I'LL COME TO YOU by ROBERT BURNS CONTENTMENT, AFTER THE MANNER OF HORACE by CHARLES STUART CALVERLEY CHANSON INNOCENTE: 2 by EDWARD ESTLIN CUMMINGS A SONG TO A FAIR YOUNG LADY GOING OUT OF TOWN IN THE SPRING by JOHN DRYDEN |