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 share
Your gold of unrevealed awakenings.

Analysis, meaning and summary of Edwin Arlington Robinson's poem For Ariva

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