When the auricles answer with rhythmical sob,
As they murmur a melody wondrously low!
Oh, thy cornea, love, has the radiant light
Of the sparkle that laughs in the icicle’s sheen;
And thy crystalline lens, like a diamond bright,
Through the quivering frame of thine iris is seen!
And thy retina, spreading its lustre of pearl,
Like the far-away nebula, distantly gleams
From a vault of black cellular mirrors that hurl
From their hexagon angles the silvery beams.