I would not alter thy cold eyes, <br />Nor trouble the calm fount of speech <br />With aught of passion or surprise. <br />The heart of thee I cannot reach: <br />I would not alter thy cold eyes! <br /> <br />I would not alter thy cold eyes; <br />Nor have thee smile, nor make thee weep: <br />Though all my life droops down and dies, <br />Desiring thee, desiring sleep, <br />I would not alter thy cold eyes. <br /> <br />I would not alter thy cold eyes; <br />I would not change thee if I might, <br />To whom my prayers for incense rise, <br />Daughter of dreams! my moon of night! <br />I would not alter thy cold eyes. <br /> <br />I would not alter thy cold eyes, <br />With trouble of the human heart: <br />Within their glance my spirit lies, <br />A frozen thing, alone, apart; <br />I would not alter thy cold eyes.<br /><br />Ernest Christopher Dowson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/flos-lunae/
