Moments of vision

        That mirror

    Which makes of men a transparency 

        Who holds that mirror 

And bids us such a breast-bare spectacle see

        Of you and me?

        That mirror

    Whose magic penetrates like a dart, 

        Who lifts that mirror 

And throws our mind back on us, and our heart, 

        Until we start? 

        That mirror

    Works well in these night hours of ache;

        Why in that mirror 

Are tincts we never see ourselves once take 

        When the world is awake? 

        That mirror 

    Can test each mortal when unaware;

        Yea, that strange mirror 

May catch his last thoughts, whole life foul or fair, 

        Glassing it - where?  

Thomas Hardy - "Moments of Vision and Miscellaneous verses"