Ballads of Battle/The Mirror

by Joseph Lee

THE MIRROR

To N. S., on the gift of a Metal Mirror received in the trenches.

When in this burnished steel I traceMy own begrimed and hair-grown face,And, as of old, still smile to seeSome of the boy unquelled in me:

I also vision a fair lawn,O'er which a placid sky is drawn,While the broad firth flows at our feet—For heaven itself a mirror meet:

A rosy copse, a roseate sky,And we together, you and I,In the garden at the cool of e'en,Talking of dear dead things have been;

Turning our dearly-boughten storeOf Memories, o'er and o'er and o'er—So fragrant that each well might beRose petal from life's thorny tree—Till full hearts fountain into tearsTo vivify these long-dead years!

When in this shining steel I traceMy own begrimed and hair-grown face;A magic impress—I shall seeThe smile of him who sent it me!

 

TYPICAL BARN BILLET