The years have crinkled the skin,
And the lips may sink in,
But the eye shines brightly yet,
With care and joy and whim.
The eye is but a reflection,
And the waters are warm with light,
And the surface so bright does shine,
In truth, and love and right.
Step back the fire is too white
And it matters not the content of the eye,
For a glorious light rules the earth,
Mist upon the mountains high.