Henry Wadsworth Longfellow on Eyes
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βThe flash of his keen, black eyes Forerunning the thunder.β
βAnd thy deep eyes, amid the gloom, Shine like jewels in a shroud.β
βWithin her tender eye The heaven of April, with its changing light.β
βO lovely eyes of azure, Clear as the waters of a brook that run Limpid and laughing in the summer sun!β
βI dislike an eye that twinkles like a star. Those only are beautiful which, like the planets, have a steady, lambent light,βare luminous, but not sparkling.β