I.
Two miracles are thy blue eyes,
Haughty or tender;
Robbing our Andalusian skies
Of half their splendor.
Celestial eyes of heaven’s own hue,
Twin thrones of glory,
Whose glances every day subdue
New territory.
Blue were the waters and the skies
Two miracles are thy blue eyes,
Haughty or tender;
Robbing our Andalusian skies
Of half their splendor.
Celestial eyes of heaven’s own hue,
Twin thrones of glory,
Whose glances every day subdue
New territory.
Blue were the waters and the skies