Lady in a Mirror

Like someone flavoring a bed-time drink
She lets dissolve into the mirror's pool
Her air of weariness and then lets sink
The brilliant smile for which some play the fool.

At that she waits until the essence drifts
From it and then she pours her hair all down
Into the mirror. Later, while she lifts
A perfect shoulder from her evening gown,

She drinks her image, tasting yet again
What that bewildered lover must have drunk.
She sips it half mistrustfully and then

Beckons the maid when first she catches sight,
In her mirror's background, of lamps, a trunk,
And dregs of this late hour of the night.