MEETING AN OLD MIRROR.
Beloved of beautiful and eager eyes,
It had its honours from the guests below;
But it went somewhat nearer to the skies
As it grew old, you know.
It had its honours from the guests below;
But it went somewhat nearer to the skies
As it grew old, you know.
Still, from the gilded splendour of the day
That Vanity sees shining in its place,
I turned with yearning for the pleased, still way
It used to hold my face.
That Vanity sees shining in its place,
I turned with yearning for the pleased, still way
It used to hold my face.
Far up the stair and shunned of faded eyes
I found the thing that I had loved before:
It took my face, grew dead-white with surprise,
Held it—then saw no more!
I found the thing that I had loved before:
It took my face, grew dead-white with surprise,
Held it—then saw no more!
Suddenly blinded: for the Mirror shed
Tears for dim hair, it praised to suns gone by,
And One to whom once of it I gaily said,
"My rival—dear as I!"
Tears for dim hair, it praised to suns gone by,
And One to whom once of it I gaily said,
"My rival—dear as I!"
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