When down the crowded aisle my wandering eyes
'Lighted on thine fix'd scanningly on my face,
They struck not passion fire, but in their place
Did settlingly fix themselves, contemplative-wise,
Thine eyes to fathom; — for as one that lies
On mountain side where thick-leaved branches vein
'Twixt him and the sun, and gazes o'er the plain
That wide beneath him variedly amplifies;
I think my being was elevatedly lain
On its own thought, and in thy being gazing
With tranquil speculation, that did gain
Singular delight: thus mine eyes thine appraising,
By dial reckoning, only a moment spent;
Whole ages by the heart's right measurement.

But when thine eyelids bent into thy gaze
Nearing regard and instigating light;
Their lashes narrowing o'er the dewy blaze
That suddenly thine eyes did appetite;
Narrowing as if thou feared'st to invite
Too utterly, but truly that their motion
Caressingly closing faintly, might excite
My tranquil gaze to passionate devotion; —
Then suddenly seemed I an infinite life;
Infinitely falling down before thy shrine;
Infinitely praying thy descent; the strife
Of the aisle's crowd seem'd gone; thine eyes and mine,
Devouring distance, into each other grew;
While thine unfeigning lids gloriously upward flew.