THE GLASS

Your face has lost

The clearness it once wore,

And your brow smooth and white

Its look of light;

Your eyes that were

So careless, are how deep with care!

O, what has done

This cruelty to you?

Is it only Time makes strange

Your look with change,

Or something more

Than the worst pang Time ever bore?—

Regret, regret!

So bitter that it changes

Bright youth to madness,

Poisoning mere sadness...

O, vain glass that shows

Less than the bitterness the heart knows.