The Mirror

SHE knew it not:—most perfect pain
 To learn: this too she knew not. Strife
 For me, calm hers, as from the first.
 'Twas but another bubble burst
 Upon the curdling draught of life,—
  My silent patience mine again.
  As who, of forms that crowd unknown
 Within a distant mirror's shade,
 Deems such an one himself, and makes
 Some sign; but when the image shakes
 No whit, he finds his thought betray'd,
  And must seek elsewhere for his own.