Sent to a Lady with a Pocket-Looking Glass

See! my soul 's serene invader !
See the face , I first, ador'd!
Heaven, for love , and pity , made her,
And with angel 's graces, stor'd.

Mark her forehead 's aweful rising ,
See her soul-subduing eyes !
Every look , and air , surprizing!
Modest, lively, soft, and wise.

Next to you , I own, I love her,
But your sweet, discerning, eye,
Must not, now, be jealous of her:
She's ne'er seen , but you are by .
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