An evil spirit, your beauty haunts me still, Wherewith, alas, I have been long possest, Which ceaseth not to tempt me to each ill, Nor gives me once but one poor minute's rest; In me it speaks, whether I sleep or wake, And when by means to drive it out I try, With greater torments then it me doth take, And tortures me in most extremity; Before my face it lays down my despairs, And hastes me on unto a sudden death, Now tempting me to drown myself in tears, And then in sighing to give up my breath. Thus am I still provok'd to every evil By this good wicked spirit, sweet angel-devil. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE DIORAMA PAINTER AT THE MUSEUM OF NATURAL HISTORY by KAREN SWENSON SONNET: 27 by JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL WHICH WAS MOST TRULY DEAD? by CHARLES AUGUSTIN SAINTE-BEUVE THE BRIDE AND GROOM by WILLIAM EDWARD ADAMS AS TO MOONLIGHT by WITTER BYNNER THE CANTERBURY TALES: THE MERCHANT'S PROLOGUE by GEOFFREY CHAUCER |