In Other Words/As to Eyes
As to Eyes
Lady, better bards than I, Poets of an elder day,Seemed to love to versify On “her eyes,” or blue or gray.
’T is an oft-recurrent theme For the bards who rhapsodize;Not a one but used to dream Of the loveliness of eyes.
Shelley, Tennyson and Keats, Swinburne, Byron, Moore and Burns—All had visual conceits, All had various optic yearns.
Far from me to mimimize Elder, better bards, exceptThis: they spoke of lady’s eyes Haunting them what time they slept.
Envy I those troubadours. I am such a helpless thrall,Lady, when I think of yours, I—I cannot sleep at all.