Thee, Queen of Shadows! -- shall I still invoke, <br />Still love the scenes thy sportive pencil drew, <br />When on mine eyes the early radiance broke <br />Which shew'd the beauteous rather than the true! <br />Alas! long since those glowing tints are dead, <br />And now 'tis thine in darkest hues to dress <br />The spot where pale Experience hangs her head <br />O'er the sad grave of murder'd Happiness! <br />Thro' thy false medium, then, no longer view'd, <br />May fancied pain and fancied pleasure fly, <br />And I, as from me all thy dreams depart, <br />Be to my wayward destiny subdued: <br />Nor seek perfection with a poet's eye, <br />Nor suffer anguish with a poet's heart!<br /><br />Charlotte Smith<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sonnet-xlvii-to-fancy/
