Thy countenance is hid from me;
Let not my question anger thee!
Speak, though in words the fewest.
"Tell me, what kind of eyes are thine?
Dark eyes, or light ones rather?"
"My eyes are a decided brown—
So much, at least, by looking down,
From the brook's glass I gather."
"And is it red—thy little month?
That too the blind must care for."