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. 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. I know not with what body come The saints. But this I know, my Paradise Will mean the resurrection of her eyes. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE VAMPIRE by RUDYARD KIPLING TO A PINE TREE by JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL AT A SOLEMN MUSIC by JOHN MILTON PROVINCIA DESERTA by EZRA POUND COLUMBUS [AUGUST 3, 1492] by JOHANN CHRISTOPH FRIEDRICH VON SCHILLER AMORETTI: 15 by EDMUND SPENSER INSCRIPTIONS: 4 by MARK AKENSIDE |