S. R. Faruqi:

Al-e Ahmad Surur has written that one day in the presence of Fani someone praised this verse of his:

āñsū the so ḳhushk huʾe jī hai kih umḍā ātā hai
dil pah ghaṭā sī chhāʾī hai khultī hai nah barastī hai

[the tears were such that they dried; the inner-self is such that it floods
over the heart something cloud-like has spread-- it neither opens/lifts, nor rains]

Fani replied, 'The way Yaganah has versified the rhyme of barastī -- I couldn't equal it'. Then he recited this verse of Yaganah's:

chitvanoñ se miltā hai kuchh surāġh bāt̤in kā
chāl se to kāfir par sādagī barastī hai

[from the glances/appearances comes some trace of the interior
from her gait, simplicity rains down on the infidel]

The truth is that with regard to 'mood', Fani's verse is much better. In Yaganah's verse there's temperament/wit, but also a bit of formality/artifice. Then, in Yaganah's first line the image is taken directly from Mir. The fundamental thing is that both Fani's and Yaganah's verses, despite their beauty, are one-dimensional with regard to meaning, while in Mir's verse there's the 'affair' aspect, and also complexity of theme; in it wordplay creates an additional pleasure.

In Mir's verse the theme is that the beloved used sometimes to cast a glance on the lover, and this always made him happy. In the glance there was no attachment; rather, there was only generosity/chivalry. Now the beloved has renounced even that generosity, but she doesn't want to clearly/openly announce this renunciation of generosity. Now when she is in the lover's presence, the beloved averts her eyes, or turns her eyes aside in some subtle style. But from her actions the state of her heart becomes manifest, because in her averting of her eyes there's no air of attachment or deep relationship. As Momin says,

shab tum jo bazm-e ġhair meñ āñkheñ churā gaʾe
khoʾe gaʾe ham aise kih aġhyār pā gaʾe

[last night when you, in the Other's gathering, averted your eyes
we became lost in such a way that the Others found out/us]

In Mir's verse, āñkh churānā means 'to turn the face aside, to avoid', or 'to overlook a previous meeting' ( [from the dictionary of idioms] maḳhzan ul-muḥāvarāt ). Here we can also take it in its dictionary meaning. In this way chhupāʾī huʾī āñkh kā nah chhupnā has the force of a 'reversed' metaphor. The affinity among ahl-e naz̤ar , āñkh , chhupānā , paidā is obvious. To call the lover an ahl-e naz̤ar is, with regard to both wordplay and affinity, extremely fine.

The tone too of Mir's verse is uncommon. In it there's no doubt a light complaint, but there's no bitterness or anger. It's as if it's the beloved's right to show generosity or not show it. Instead of anger or bitterness, there's a kind of pride in his own acuteness and sharpness of vision-- that she may use a thousand artifices, but he realizes what the real state of affairs is. A Persian verse:

'No matter in what color/kind of robe you dress/hide yourself
I know/recognize your style of movement.'

FWP:

SETS
MOTIFS == EYES
NAMES
TERMS == METAPHOR

I have nothing special to add.