With those clear Eyes

Look at me, love, with those clear eyes
In which I see the thoughts arise,
As, gazing in a limpid well,
Unto Narcissus it befell
To see himself with glad surprise.

Blue with the blue of summer skies,—
Dear skies, behind which heaven lies,—
With one swift gaze my gloom dispel.
Look at me, love!

See all my heart! Its weakest cries,
Its lonely prayers, its longing sighs,
A language are which you can spell;
You do not need what words can tell
On printed page to make you wise.
Look at me, love!