Her Glass.
Her glass yet holds, or seems to hold her!
But now she visioned herself here;
Her glass spoke truth, and fondly told her
What a man might, a man's lips near
The shell of her soft ear.
But too cold thing that could not capture
The blush of beauty, as it were!
When a man's heart with dreamy rapture
Would at the least, least touch of her
Feel all his pulses stir.
poem by Robert Crawford
Added by Poetry Lover
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