TWO MIRRORS.
My love but breathed upon the glass,
And, lo! upon the crystal sheen
A tender mist did straightway pass,
And raised its jealous veil between.
But quick, as when Aurora's face
Is hid behind some transient shroud,
The sun strikes through with golden grace,
And she emerges from the cloud;
So from her eyes celestial light
Shines on the mirror's cloudy plain,
And swift the envious mist takes flight,
And shows her lovely face again.
When o'er the mirror of my heart,
Wherein her image true endures,
Some misty doubt doth sudden start,
And all the sweet reflex obscures,
There beams such glow from her clear eyes
That swift the rising mists are laid;
And, fixed again, her image lies,
All lovelier for the passing shade.
F.A. HILLARD.