Classic Poem

Beloved of beautiful and eager eyes,
It had its honors from the guests below;
But it went somewhat nearer to the skies
As it grew old, you know.

Still, from the gilded splendor of the day
That Vanity sees shining in its place,
I turn'd with yearning for the pleased, slow way
It used to hold my face.

Far up the stair and shunn'd of faded eyes
I found the thing that I had loved before:
It took my face, grew dead-white with surprise,
Held it — then saw no more!

Suddenly blinded: for the Mirror shed
Tears for dim hair, it praised to suns gone by,
And One to whom once of it I gayly said,
" My rival — dear as I! "

Companions, in our time, of pleasant lights,
I thought, and music and rich foreign blooms,
What shall we find for those fair evening-sights
In lonesome upper rooms?

The misty Mirror show'd a calm reproof,
Receiving there a higher company,
In dust and empty silence near the roof,
Than we were wont to see.

Its pride in jewel'd reverence was gone,
And quiet tenderness was in its place,
That took the sweet stars, as they glimmer'd on
In chill clouds, to its grace.