The Mirror

She knew it not:--most perfect pain
To learn: this too she knew not Strife
For me, calm hers, as from the first.
'Twas but another bubble burst
Upon the curdling draught of life,--
My silent patience mine again.

As who, of forms that crowd unknown
Within a distant mirror's shade,
Deems such an one himself, and makes
Some sign; but when the image shakes
No whit, he finds his thought betray'd,
And must seek elsewhere for his own.