Oft have I seen a Piece of Art, <br />Of Light and Shade, the Mixture fine, <br />Speak all the Passions of the Heart, <br />And shew true Life in every Line. <br />But what is this before my Eyes, <br />With every Feature, every Grace, <br />That strikes with Love and with Surprize, <br />And gives me all the Vital Face. <br />It is not Chloris, for behold <br />The shifting Phantom comes and goes; <br />And when 'tis here 'tis pale and cold, <br />Nor any Female Softness knows. <br />But 'tis her Image, for I feel <br />The very Pains that Chloris gives; <br />Her Charms are there, I know 'em well, <br />I see what in my Bosom lives. <br />Oh cou'd I but the Picture save! <br />'Tis drawn by her own matchless Skill; <br />Nature the lively Colours gave, <br />And she need only Look to Kill. <br />Ah! Fair-one, will it not suffice, <br />That I shou'd once, your Victim lye; <br />Unless you multiply your Eyes, <br />And strive to make me doubly Dye.<br /><br />Thomas Parnell<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/chloris-appearing-in-a-looking-glass/
