Words cannot say what she was in her prime,
This Laïs, now a specimen of Time.
She used to laugh to see so many men,
Not one of whom she’ll ever see again.
Goddess, to you I yield my useless mirror—
What can it do but verify Time’s error?
It will not show me as I used to be,
And what it will show I refuse to see.
This article originally appeared in The New Criterion, Volume 17 Number 5, on page 39
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