A melanholy face Charles Carville had, <br />But not so melancholy as it seemed, <br />When once you knew him, for his mouth redeemed <br />His insufficient eyes, forever sad: <br />In them there was no life-glimpse, good or bad, <br />Nor joy nor passion in them ever gleamed; <br />His mouth was all of him that ever beamed, <br />His eyes were sorry, but his mouth was glad. <br /> <br />He never was a fellow that said much, <br />And half of what he did say was not heard <br />By many of us: we were out of touch <br />With all his whims and all his theories <br />Till he was dead, so those blank eyes of his <br />Might speak them. Then we heard them, every word.<br /><br />Edwin Arlington Robinson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/charles-carville-s-eyes/
