We call them Hiawatha eyes—eyes that light the wigwam, the dimly lit bedroom of a farmhouse, the space under a tree, a hut or a comfortable spot by the sea. In more recent times, these eyes light up the room in a modern home or birth house or rural hospital where there is consciousness of the enduring nature and delicate sensitivity of the newly born. Those eyes, oh, those eyes. Many poets call them the windows of the soul. These eyes speak with well-being, connection, curios