The Blind Man to the Maiden

The blind man to the maiden said,
"O thou of hearts the truest,
Thy countenance is hid from me;
Let not my question anger thee!
Speak, though in words the fewest.

"Tell me, what kind of eyes are thine?
Dark eyes, or light ones rather?"
"My eyes are a decided brown--
So much, at least, by looking down,
From the brook's glass I gather."

"And is it red--thy little month?
That too the blind must care for."
"Ah! I would tell it soon to thee,
Only--none yet has told it me.
I cannot answer, therefore.

"But dost thou ask what heart I have--
There hesitate I never.
In thine own breast 't is borne, and so
'T is thine in weal, and thine in woe,
For life, for death--thine ever!"