Edwin Arlington Robinson (1869–1935). Collected Poems. 1921.

V. The Town Down the River

17. For Arvia


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 meaning 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?

You say not; but you think, beyond a doubt;

And you have the whole world to think about,

With very little time for little things.

So let it be; and let it all be fair—

For you, and for the rest who cannot share

Your gold of unrevealed awakenings.