I know two eyes, two soft brown eyes,
Two eyes as sweet and dear,
As ever dance with gay surprise
Or glistened in a tear,
In whose fair rays a heart may bask,
Their shadowed rays serene.
But, little maid, you must not ask
Whose gentle eyes I mean.

I knew a voice of fairy tone
Like brooklet in the June,
That sings to please itself alone
A little old world tune,
Whose music haunts the listener's ear
And will not leave it free
But, I shall never tell you, dear,
Whose accents they may be.

I know a golden-hearted maid
For whom I built a shrine,
A leafy nook of murmurous shade
Deep in this heart of mine,
And in that calm and cool recess
To make her home she came.
But, oh! you'd never, never guess
That little maiden's name.