On Her Vanity

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What are these things thou lovest? Vanity.To see men turn their heads when thou dost pass;To be the signboard and the looking-glassWhere every idler there may glut his eye;To hear men speak thy name mysteriously,Wagging their heads. Is it for this, alas,That thou hast made a placard of a faceOn which the tears of love were hardly dry?What are these things thou lovest? The applauseOf prostitutes at wit which is not thine:The sympathy of shop-boys who would weepTheir shilling's worth of woe in any cause,At any tragedy. -- Their tears and mine,What difference? Oh truly tears are cheap!

© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt