
The Lament of the Looking-glass Thomas Hardy
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Words from the mirror softly pass
  To the curtains with a sigh:
“Why should I trouble again to glass
  These smileless things hard by,
Since she I pleasured once, alas,
  Is now no longer nigh!”
“I’ve imaged shadows of coursing cloud,
  And of the plying limb
On the pensive pine when the air is loud
  With its aerial hymn;
But never do they make me proud
  To catch them within my rim!
“I flash back phantoms of the night
  That sometimes flit by me,
I echo roses red and white -
  The loveliest blooms that be -
But now I never hold to sight
  So sweet a flower as she.”
  To the curtains with a sigh:
“Why should I trouble again to glass
  These smileless things hard by,
Since she I pleasured once, alas,
  Is now no longer nigh!”
“I’ve imaged shadows of coursing cloud,
  And of the plying limb
On the pensive pine when the air is loud
  With its aerial hymn;
But never do they make me proud
  To catch them within my rim!
“I flash back phantoms of the night
  That sometimes flit by me,
I echo roses red and white -
  The loveliest blooms that be -
But now I never hold to sight
  So sweet a flower as she.”
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