Poems (Duer)/To a Photograph

by Alice Duer

TO A PHOTOGRAPH.

Your stern young face looks out to-night,
 From most—incongruous of places—
My toilet-table's rose and white,
 Half-hidden by its frills and laces:
Set with no gold nor precious stone,
 But thrust into my mirror's moulding,
That the same scroll that frames my own
 Should have yours, too, within its holding.

Absurd that I consult your eyes,
 Half in excuse, half in defiance,
Lest some of my frivolities
 Should break our fanciful alliance;
Absurd indeed, that I should care
 For your boy scorn or disapproval,
When the same hand that placed you there
 Has but to rise for your removal.

Yet if I took you from your place,
 Each night my weary eyes would miss you;
And so, dear, stay: perhaps your face
 Will look less stern each time I kiss you.

C. D.