In Honour Of Matthew Prior
("Ionica," 1877)
I am Her mirror, framed by him
Who likes and knows her. On my rim
No fret, no bead, no lace.
He tells me not to mind the scorning
Of every semblance of adorning,
Since I receive Her face.
I am Her mirror, framed by him
Who likes and knows her. On my rim
No fret, no bead, no lace.
He tells me not to mind the scorning
Of every semblance of adorning,
Since I receive Her face.
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