Classic Poem

When down the crowded aisle my wandering eyes
'Lighted on thine fix'd scanningly on my face,
They struck not passion fire, but in their place
Did settlingly fix themselves, contemplative-wise,
Thine eyes to fathom; — for as one that lies
On mountain side where thick-leaved branches vein
'Twixt him and the sun, and gazes o'er the plain
That wide beneath him variedly amplifies;
I think my being was elevatedly lain
On its own thought, and in thy being gazing
With tranquil speculation, that did gain
Singular delight: thus mine eyes thine appraising,
By dial reckoning, only a moment spent;
Whole ages by the heart's right measurement.

But when thine eyelids bent into thy gaze
Nearing regard and instigating light;
Their lashes narrowing o'er the dewy blaze
That suddenly thine eyes did appetite;
Narrowing as if thou feared'st to invite
Too utterly, but truly that their motion
Caressingly closing faintly, might excite
My tranquil gaze to passionate devotion; —
Then suddenly seemed I an infinite life;
Infinitely falling down before thy shrine;
Infinitely praying thy descent; the strife
Of the aisle's crowd seem'd gone; thine eyes and mine,
Devouring distance, into each other grew;
While thine unfeigning lids gloriously upward flew.