Sonnet 165 lyrics

Stay, shadow of contentment too short-lived,
illusion of enchantment I most prize,
fair image for whom I happily die,
sweet fiction for whom I painfully live.
If to your sweet charms attracted I submit,
obedient, like steel to magnet fly,
by what logic do you flatter and entice,
only to flee, a taunting fugitive?
'Tis no triumph that you so smugly boast
that I fell victim to your tyranny;
though from encircling bonds that held you fast
your elusive form too readily slipped free,
and though to my arms you are forever lost,
you are a prisoner in my fantasy.