I sat before my glass one day
And conjured up a vision bare
Unlike the aspects glad and gay
That erst were found reflected there -
The vision of a woman, wild
With more than womanly despair

Her hair stood back on either side
A face bereft of loveliness
It had no envy now to hide
What once no man on earth could guess
It formed the thorny aureole
Of hard, unsanctified distress

Her lips were open - not a sound
Came through the parted lines of red
Whate'er it was, the hideous wound
In silence and (in) secret bled
No sigh relieved her speechless woe
She had no voice to speak her dread

And in her lurid eyes there shone
The dying flame of life's desire
Made mad because its hope was gone
And kindled at the leaping fire
Of jealousy and fierce revenge
And strength that could not change nor tire

Shade of a shadow in the glass
O set the crystal surface free!
Pass - as the fairer visions pass -
Nor ever more return, to be
The ghost of a distracted hour
That heard me whisper: - 'I am she!'