To set my jealous soul at strife, All things maliciously agree, Though sleep of Death the image be, Dreams are the portraiture of life. I saw, when last I clos'd my eyes, Celinda stoop t' another's will; If specious Apprehension kill, What would the truth without disguise? The joys which I should call mine own, Methought this rival did possess: Like dreams is all my happiness; Yet dreams themselves allow me none. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...HASTE NOT! REST NOT! by JOHANN WOLFGANG VON GOETHE A WOMAN'S QUESTION by ADELAIDE ANNE PROCTER MUTABILITY (2) by PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY PRINCE ADEB by GEORGE HENRY BOKER POTTERY MAKER by MARGARET MARCHAND BROWN |