When I was a child, I used to stand With a broken mirror in my hand, And watch my laughing image pass In and out of the shining glass.
It seemed mysterious and strange To watch the bright, clear surface change, And behold within a tiny space A perfect portrait of my face.
If I could hold it here once more, And look into it as before, I wonder if I still would see A faint resemblance of Me?
Robert Smithdas remembers a simple childhood game: holding a broken mirror and watching his own laughing face slide in and out of view. The first two stanzas are full of wonder. The reflection seems "mysterious and strange," and the small, bright surface holds a "perfect portrait" of him, as if a whole self could be fitted into a tiny space.
The mood shifts in the last stanza. Now the speaker is older, and he wishes he could pick up that mirror again. His question is quiet but a little unsettling: would he still recognize himself? The final line, "A faint resemblance of Me?", capitalizes the last word, which makes it feel like more than a face. The poem seems to be asking about identity itself, how much of the child remains in the adult. The tone is gentle and nostalgic, tinged with uncertainty. Nothing dramatic happens; the feeling comes from one small, wistful question left hanging.