The Song of the Mirror

it is addressed thusly:

An ode.
it reads:
The beautiful woman smirks;
She alone knows what works --
The pretty flutters or preens
Perhaps she is what she seems
Perhaps not -- from what round eye
Would these, the accusations fly--
All can smile, if they wish
A grateful face deserving a kiss--
If kisses can be given, and so
About this matter we come and go;
Many are cute; few are quite hirsute
But here - known by the astute
A law, simple and without flaw
No epistle of straw;
Every warp and weft man provides
These many, beauty survives
And beauty, knowing the sum
May wish to remain mum
While those else emulate
- but mostly mutilate
And so a slight thing to mar
Throws her into relief by far
As she alone knows what works,
The beautiful woman smirks.

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