Author James McIntyre Dangerous effects of seeing onesself in a crooked glass. A maiden cried, ' Alas ! . With horror I'll expire, Unless you bring me That true glass I bought of McIntyre.' Tags Short Poems Rate this poem Select ratingGive it 1/5Give it 2/5Give it 3/5Give it 4/5Give it 5/5 No votes yet Rate Reviews Post review No reviews yet. Log in or register to post comments