The Two Mirrors

By Joseph Skipsey

SHE took the wood thro’ which she sung,
But in the lake near which she wended,
An image met, and swayed and swung,
And three times with her image blended.

The vision from that mirror fled,
But, ah! I found when day had vanished,
It only to a glass had sped,
From which it never can be banished.

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