DECEITFUL Fancy, why delud'st thou me, The dead alive presenting? My joy's fair image carved in shades I see. O false, yet sweet contenting! Why art thou not a substance like to me, Or I a shade to vanish hence with thee? Stay, gentle object, my sense still deceive With this thy kind illusion. I die through madness if my thoughts you leave. O strange, yet sweet confusion! Poor blissless heart, that feels such deep annoy Only to lose the shadow of thy joy! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE SALZBURG CHIMES by HENRY ALFORD DRUM TAPS TO HEAVEN by JAMES CHURCH ALVORD SOLUTION OF THE CHARADE IN THE MUSEUM FOR OCTOBER by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD THE MAGNOLIA TREE by EASTER ROHRER BECKER PENT by LOUISA SARAH BEVINGTON |