Her eyes rest not upon my face.
But peep into my mind:
I trust, they find there no disgrace,
Or wanton, or unkind;
But all most fair, and stretching far,
As hills, and skies, and meadows are.

Some eyes are brown, and some are blue;
But hers are only dark to view:
Some eyes are blue, and some are gray;
But, oh! what colour, shall we say,
If she, perchance, should look this way?