TO THOSE DARK EYES THAT HAUNT ME STILL
We met—’twas while passing through the crowded street-car door.
We met—for one brief moment her dark eyes gazed into mine.
Oh, what wonderful, beautiful, bewildering brown, black eyes they were!
Large, languorous—“swimming in the stream!”
Seeming to melt to their own beam.
Great lustrous, magnetic orbs, o’erfilled with glints of passion and with dreams divine!
We met—we gazed—her modest glances fell, then, to meet mine nevermore.
We met—we parted—but, oh! those dark, resplendent, dream-eyes they haunt me still.
Potent influences they hold for good or ill.
Star-lights, that could lead man’s wandering foot-steps safely up the steeps to Paradise,
Or plunge him downward dazzled to the depths of hell!
Beatific lady! I wonder will for me those peerless lenses ever beam again!
And, oh (in modesty) have they not beveiled their fires from mine before?
Descendant of some enchantress, princes, peasant-girl, or queen.
Have not we known each other, long ere this, upon some foreign shore?
In aeons past,—by Time’s wide river drifted far apart,—
Did we not once dwell happy in a better land?
Reincarnated spirits, are not ours, spirits of lovers oft parted, tho’ ever loth to part?
Lady—lady—did not we as old-time sweethearts once walk fondly hand in hand?