20 APRIL 1996, Page 38

If I tell you that your eyes become more beautiful

each year, then you'll bat them, cross them, tell me it's no recompense for needing contact lenses, or for all their lines.

If I tell you that your eyes become more beautiful each year, I'll see the light cavort in them; you'll roll them and you'll widen them, or else avert them winningly and turn the conversation round to me.

If I tell you that your eyes become more beautiful each year, you'll focus them quite suddenly, then narrow them suspiciously, and tell me it's the place all right, but, lover, past the time.

So I'll just lie here silently, innocent of devilry.

I'll look into those eyes of yours, and improvise these lines of mine.

Till, sensing scrutiny you'll say, `Now what's that in your beard — grey?'

Tony Roberts