Black And Blue Eyes.

A poem by Thomas Moore

The brilliant black eye
May in triumph let fly
All its darts without Caring who feels 'em;
But the soft eye of blue,
Tho' it scatter wounds too,
Is much better pleased when it heals 'em--
Dear Fanny!
Is much better pleased when it heals 'em.

The black eye may say,
"Come and worship my ray--
"By adoring, perhaps you may move me!"
But the blue eye, half hid,
Says from under its lid,
"I love and am yours, if you love me!"
Yes, Fanny!
The blue eye, half hid,
Says, from under its lid,
"I love and am yours, if you love me!"

Come tell me, then, why
In that lovely blue eye
Not a charm of its tint I discover;
Oh why should you wear
The only blue pair
That ever said "No" to a lover?
Dear Fanny!
Oh, why should you wear
The only blue pair
That ever said "No" to a lover?

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