I like to think Eve's eyes were eyes of blue --
Two dewy violets as clear as morn --
And garden-wise, girl-shy, she wandered through
Blue turquoise-tinted Eden azure-born.
Lucretia Borgia's eyes were eyes of black --
Hate-swift and cold; each wild impassioned glance
Poisoned the very soul as she flung back
Revenge more cruel than a tyrant's lance.
Gold-headed Helen had soft, dove-grey eyes --
I will not have them blue though Grecian bright!
The sea, the sky, the happy Summer skies
Swam in their depths like a far holy light.
I think great Cleopatra's eyes were brown,
Full, large and strong, and at their queenly glance
The slave bowed down, the king renounced his crown --
Brown eyes were ever eyes of old romance.
But none had eyes that can compare with these,
Dancing beneath the fire of golden curl --
Such eyes bring me a captive on my knees
To you, new Eve, my little baby girl.
First published in The Australian Woman's Mirror, 18 August 1925
