Thomas Hardy — The Lament of the Looking-glass

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