Page:The town down the river; a book of poems.djvu/99



You Eyes, you large and all-inquiring Eyes, That look so dubiously into me, And are not satisfied with what you see, Tell me the worst and let us have no lies: Tell me the secret of your scrutinies, And of myself. Am I a Mystery? Am I a Boojum—or just Company? What do you say? What do you think, You Eyes?