 | The poems of Celia Thaxter |  |
HER MIRROR
O mirror, whence her lovely face
Was wont to look with radiance sweet,
Hast thou not kept of her some trace,
Some memory that thou mayest repeat?
Was wont to look with radiance sweet,
Hast thou not kept of her some trace,
Some memory that thou mayest repeat?
Could I but find in thee once more
Some token of her presence dear!
O mirror, wilt thou not restore
Her shadow for an instant here?
Some token of her presence dear!
O mirror, wilt thou not restore
Her shadow for an instant here?
Thou couldst not yield a boon so great.
I see my own dim face and eyes
With love and longing desolate,
All drowned in wistful memories.
I see my own dim face and eyes
With love and longing desolate,
All drowned in wistful memories.
Blindly for her dear hand I grope;
There 's nothing life can have in store
So sweet to me as this sweet hope,
To feel her smile on me once more!
There 's nothing life can have in store
So sweet to me as this sweet hope,
To feel her smile on me once more!
| The poems of Celia Thaxter | |