A picture-frame for you to fill, A paltry setting for your face, A thing that has no worth until You lend it something of your grace, I send (unhappy I that sing Laid by awhile upon the shelf) Because i would not send a thing Less charming than you are yourself. And happier than I, alas! (Dumb thing, I envy its delight) 'T will wish you well, the looking-glass, And look you in the face to-night.