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