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More poems by Ogden NashOgden Nash | Print this page.Print | Order a PoetryNotes Analysis of this poem.Analysis | View and Write CommentsComments

A Lady Who Thinks She Is Thirty

Ogden Nash

Unwillingly Miranda wakes,
Feels the sun with terror,
One unwilling step she takes,
Shuddering to the mirror.

Miranda in Miranda's sight
Is old and gray and dirty;
Twenty-nine she was last night;
This morning she is thirty.

Shining like the morning star,
Like the twilight shining,
Haunted by a calendar,
Miranda is a-pining.

Silly girl, silver girl,
Draw the mirror toward you;
Time who makes the years to whirl
Adorned as he adored you.

Time is timelessness for you;
Calendars for the human;
What's a year, or thirty, to
Loveliness made woman?

Oh, Night will not see thirty again,
Yet soft her wing, Miranda;
Pick up your glass and tell me, then--
How old is Spring, Miranda?

Added: 29 Aug 2001 | Last Read: 5 Sep 2008 5:35 AM | Viewed: 6842 times

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URL: http://plagiarist.com/poetry/448/ | Viewed on 5 September 2008.
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