Man Alone

It is yourself you seek

In a long rage,

Scanning through light and darkness

Mirrors, the page,


Where should reflected be


Those eyes and that thick hair,

That passionate look, that laughter.

You should appear


Within the book, or doubled,


Freed, in the silvered glass;

Into all other bodies

Yourself should pass.


The glass does not dissolve;


Like walls the mirrors stand;

The printed page gives back

Words by another hand.


And your infatuate eye


Meets not itself below;

Strangers lie in your arms

As I lie now.