To me appeared, reflected in your eyes,
The fits and starts of restless life's parade --
A few that nestled in awhile and stayed,
Still more that only briefly passed us by.
A captive to this glance that never strayed,
I ponder all you showed to me, and try
To pick apart the verities and lies:

Now if I turned from you, I am afraid
I would not know the real things for their sights;
If by some luck this sense to me returned,
I'd seek you out, that it might be unlearned,
To bask again in those your eyes, my lights --

That someday soon, the ardor in my stare
Might draw your eye to mine, and fix it there.