And looks commercing with the skies, / Thy rapt soul sitting in thine eyes.

Our souls sit close and silently within, And their own webs from their own entrails spin; And when eyes meet far off, our sense is such, That, spider-like, we feel the tenderest touch

The melting voice through mazes running;/ Untwisting all the chains that tie / The hidden soul of harmony.

Your eyes show the strength of your soul.

It's raining my soul, it's raining, but it's raining dead eyes.

Eyes are saucers to the soul.