Eyes

"Eyes are the windows to the soul"
Glowing in their bosom like coal;
One can close the eyes to reality but memories
Sighting the things beyond our control

They speak their own language
Secrets rushing without sound;
Be it solace or anguish
Inquisitively, it goes around.

With quick and questioning eyes,
Like one, who, in a foreign land,
Beholds on every hand
Some source of wonder and surprise!

Do they only meet to throb and part?
Bearing a cheerful spirit still;
A remembrance in one's heart
Future good for present ill.