My baby boy sat on the floor.
His big blue eyes were full of wonder,
For he had never seen before
That baby in the mirror door —
What kept the two, so near, asunder?
My baby smiled; those rosy lips
At once returned the pretty greeting;
He touched them with his finger-tips,
The shining surface moves and slips.
What kept their outstretched hands from meeting?
At last he sighed; there stole a shade
Across his face, perplexed and troubled.
And then he laughed, though half afraid.
Diverted half, and half dismayed,
To see his every gesture doubled.
He leaned toward the golden head
The mirror border framed within.
Until two cheeks, like roses red,
Lay side by side, then softly said:
“I can’t get out; can you come in?”
– Blanche Mary Channing