Black and Blue Eyes

Thomas Moore (1779–1852)

THE BRILLIANT black eye

May in triumph let fly

All its darts without caring who feels ’em;

But the soft eye of blue,

Though it scatter wounds too,

Is much better pleased when it heals ’em!

Dear Fanny!

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!”

Dear Fanny!

Then tell me, O why,

In that lovely blue eye,

Not a charm of its tint I discover;

Or why should you wear

The only blue pair

That ever said “No” to a lover?

Dear Fanny!