THE GAME
'Tis played with eyes; one uttered word
Would cast the game away.
As silent as a sailing bird,
The shift and change of play.
So many eyes to me are dear,
So many do me bless;
The hazel, deep as deep wood-mere
Where leaves are flutterless;
The brown that most bewildereth
With dusking, golden play
Of shadows like betraying breath
From some shy, hidden day;
The black whose torch is ever trimmed,
Let stars be soon or late;
The blue, a morning never dimmed,
Opposing Heaven to fate;
The grey as soft as farthest skies
That hold horizon rain;
Or when, steel-darkling, stoic-wise,
They bring the gods again;
And wavelit eyes of nameless glow,
Fed from far-risen streams;
But oh, the eyes, the eyes that know
The silent game of dreams!
Three times I've played. Once 'twas a child,
Lap-held, not half a year
From Heaven, looked at me and smiled,
And far I went with her.