Poetry Archives

Sweet maiden, why disguise
The beauty of your eyes
          With glasses black?
Although I’m well aware
That you are more than fair,
          Allure you lack.
For as I stare at you
I ask if brown or blue
          Your optics are?
But though I cannot see,
I’m sure that each must be
          Bright as a star.

That may be green or grey,
’Tis very hard to say,
          Or violet;
The lovelight in their glow
Alas, I’ll never know,
          To my regret.
In some rhyme-book I’ve read,
A lady bard has said,
          And deemed it true,
Men will not bite the necks
Of sweeties who wear specs,—
          Young man, would you?

But though they balk romance,
Columbus took a chance,
          And so would I;
Even with orbs unseen
I’d fain make you my queen
          And you en-sky.
Alas I see you go,
And I will never know
          Your pupils tint;
So o’er a lonely drink
I force myself to think:
          Damsel, you squint!