Moments of Vision

          That mirror
   Which makes of men a transparency,
       Who holds that mirror
And bids us such a breast-bare spectacle see
       Of you and me?

       That mirror
   Whose magic penetrates like a dart,
       Who lifts that mirror
And throws our mind back on us, and our heart,
       Until we start?

       That mirror
   Works well in these night hours of ache;
       Why in that mirror
Are tincts we never see ourselves once take
       When the world is awake?

       That mirror
   Can test each mortal when unaware;
       Yea, that strange mirror
May catch his last thoughts, whole life foul or fair,
       Glassing it--where?

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