Lines to a Portrait, by a Superior Person

When I bought you for a song,     Years ago Lord knows how long!     I was struck I may be wrong     By your features,     And a something in your air     That I couldnt quite compare     To my other plain or fair     Fellow creatures.     In your simple, oval frame     You were not well known to fame,     But to me twas all the same     Whoeer drew you;     For your face I cant forget,     Though I oftentimes regret     That, somehow, I never yet     Saw quite through you.     Yet each morning, when I rise,     I go first to greet your eyes;     And, in turn, you scrutinize     My presentment.     And when shades of evening fall,     As you hang upon my wall,     Youre the last thing I recall     With contentment.     It is weakness, yet I know     That I never turned to go     Anywhere, for weal or woe,     But I lingered     For one parting, thrilling flash     From your eyes, to give that dash     To the curl of my mustache,     That I fingered.     If to some you may seem plain,     And when people glance again     Where you hang, their lips refrain.     From confession;     Yet they turn in stealth aside,     And I note, they try to hide     How much they are satisfied     In expression.     Other faces I have seen;     Other forms have come between;     Other things I have, I ween,     Done and dared for!     But our ties they cannot sever,     And, though I should say it never,     Youre the only one I ever     Really cared for!     And youll still be hanging there     When were both the worse for wear,     And the silvers on my hair     And off your backing;     Yet my faith shall never pass     In my dear old shaving-glass,     Till my face and yours, alas!     Both are lacking!