Not in mine eyes alone in Paradise.

Not in mine eyes alone in Paradise.

Her eye (I'm very fond of handsome eyes)
Was large and dark, suppressing half its fire
Until read more

Her eye (I'm very fond of handsome eyes)
Was large and dark, suppressing half its fire
Until she spoke, then through its soft disguise
Flash'd an expression more of pride than ire,
And love than either; and there would arise,
A something in them which was not desire,
But would have been, perhaps, but for the soul,
Which struggled through and chansten'd down the whole.

With eyes that look'd into the very soul--
. . . .
Bright--and as black and burning read more

With eyes that look'd into the very soul--
. . . .
Bright--and as black and burning as coal.

In her eyes a thought
Grew sweeter and sweeter, deepening like the dawn,
A mystical forewarning.

In her eyes a thought
Grew sweeter and sweeter, deepening like the dawn,
A mystical forewarning.

Look babies in your eyes, my pretty sweet one.

Look babies in your eyes, my pretty sweet one.

My eyes make pictures, when they are shut.

My eyes make pictures, when they are shut.

In a moment, in the twinkling of an eye at the last trump: for
the trumpet shall sound, and read more

In a moment, in the twinkling of an eye at the last trump: for
the trumpet shall sound, and the dead shall be raised
incorruptible, and we shall be changed.

Seeing is not always believing.

Seeing is not always believing.

In every object there is inexhaustible meaning; the eye sees in
it what the eye brings means of seeing.

In every object there is inexhaustible meaning; the eye sees in
it what the eye brings means of seeing.