Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, MRS. DUGAN'S MIRRORS, by DOROTHY E. REID


Poetry Explorer

Classic and Contemporary Poetry

MRS. DUGAN'S MIRRORS, by                    
First Line: The shopgirls smiled when mrs. Dugan came
Last Line: Where fifty townsmen try to shave themselves.
Subject(s): Mirrors; Shaving; Superstition


I

The shopgirls smiled when Mrs. Dugan came
To buy a dozen mirrors for a room
Already hung with mirrors; (in the gloom
A hundred Mrs. Dugans wore the same
Brown tattered shawl and bonnet, and were lame
In the same dingy bedroom-slippered foot).
The shopgirls wondered why she wished to put
Another dozen Dugans in a frame.
But with the mute philosophy that grows
Behind a counter, they would shrug and say,
"Well, customers like that don't grow on trees,"
Arrange their hair, and bend a bit to please.
Each year a dozen mirrors joined the rows
And ranks of that bewildering array.

II

She never spoke to neighbors in the street
On rare occasions when she hobbled out --
To buy her bit of groceries, no doubt --
But what in goodness did the woman eat?
Miss Kate and Mrs. Curtis would entreat
Their goodness by the hour for a clue.
She never ate, that anybody knew,
And pointed questions wouldn't be discreet.
The Ladies' Aid conceded it was odd
(When they were met for charity and chat)
An annual dozen mirrors must be bought,
Paid for with gold, and wrapped, when meat was not.
If she was "touched," it was the will of God,
And they would never interfere with that.

III

Jim Metzger's boy took berries to the door
One summer, just to get a look inside;
The open window led him to confide
In desperate means. His feet were on the floor,
And he was needing very little more
Than just the ghosts that leaped before his eyes,
A thousand ghosts in shirts and dotted ties,
To satisfy his longing to explore.
But when the light was better, all his dread
Was lost in admiration at the row
On row of Jimmy Metzgers grinning down,
Until he heard the swishing of a gown.
A thousand ear-lobes blushed a fiery red,
And several hundred fingers pointed "Go!"

IV

The mystery of how the fire began
Is classic in the annals of the town.
Someone saw Albert Heinlen running down
The street to it, and everybody ran.
There scarcely was an able-bodied man
Who didn't bring a bucket there that night,
And neighbors came as soon as it was light
In wrappers, to help Mrs. Dugan "plan."
They knocked, and poked the embers on the grass,
And pried a shutter loose, and all in vain.
They saw her, though, with shattered mirrors lying
Around her on the floor, and she was crying.
A funny thing, to weep for broken glass
When half her house was open to the rain.

V

They held a raffle on a patchwork quilt
To fix the roof and pay for all repairs;
The Brotherhood bought carpet for the stairs
And gave the chandelier a coat of gilt,
And when the roof and kitchen porch were built
You'd never know there'd been a fire at all;
But Mrs. Dugan, crouching in the hall,
Kept mumbling over milk already spilt.
It's strange, the needy poor exhibit none
Of those refinements money seems to bring,
Like gratitude, or love, or proper pride,
For Mrs. Dugan only sat and cried.
That year the shopgirls missed their usual fun;
She didn't seem to care for anything.

VI

She wasn't in the kitchen or the shed;
They found her in the parlor, on a heap
Of broken mirrors, very sound asleep,
With fifty mirrors hanging at her head.
They lifted her and carried her to bed,
More to be working, than because they thought
A doctor could revive when God would not,
And swept the carpet, sadly stained with red.
They couldn't break the mirrors, for the seven
Unlucky years that follow; and they couldn't
Ship them to Mrs. Dugan's home in Heaven;
And who should have them, if the neighbors shouldn't?
So fifty mirrors hang above the shelves
Where fifty townsmen try to shave themselves.





Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!


Other Poems of Interest...
Home: PoetryExplorer.net