For other versions of this work, see The Mirror (Coates).
THE MIRROR
Poet, why wilt thou wander far afield?
Turn again home! There, also, Nature sings,
And to thy heart—her magic-mirror—brings
All images of life: thence will she yield
Every emotion in Man's breast concealed:
Love, hate, ambition,—hope, that heavenward wings,—
The peasant's toil, the care that waits on kings,—
All, in thy heart's clear crystal, plain revealed.
Hast thou forgotten? One there was who turning
His poet-vision inward, through the years,
Found Falstaff 's wit, and Prospero's high yearning,
Shared Hamlet's doubt, the madness that was Lear's,—
Saw Wolsey's pride, and Romeo's passion, burning,—
Knew Desdemona's truth, and felt her tears!