You Eyes, you large and all-inquiring Eyes.
That look so dubiously into me,
And are not satisfied with what you see,
Tell me the worst and let us have no lies:
Tell me the meaning of your scrutinies.
And of myself. Am I a Mystery? Am I a Boojum--or just Company? What do you say? What do you think, You Eyes?
You say not; but you think, without a doubt; And you have the whole world to think about, With very little time for little things. So let it be; and let it all be fair--
For you, and for the rest who cannot sphare Your gold of unrevealed awakenings.