| Edwin Arlington Robinson (1869–1935). Collected Poems. 1921. |
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| V. The Town Down the River |
| 17. For Arvia |
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ON HER FIFTH BIRTHDAY
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. | 5 |
| And of myself. Am I a Mystery? | |
| Am I a Boojum—or just Company? | |
| What do you say? What do you think, You Eyes? | |
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| You say not; but you think, beyond a doubt; | |
| And you have the whole world to think about, | 10 |
| 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 share | |
| Your gold of unrevealed awakenings. | |
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