Mary Wroth
Sleep fie possess me not, nor do not fright
Me with thy heavy, and thy deathlike might,
For counterfeiting's viler than death's sight,
And such deluding more my thoughts do spite.
Thou sufferest falsest shapes my soul t'affright
Sometimes in likeness of a hopeful sprite,
And oft times like my love as in despite
Joying thou canst with malice kill delight,
When I (a poor fool made by thee) think joy
It is while thy fond shadows do destroy
My that-while senseless self; then left to thee,
But now do well, let me for ever sleep,
And so forever that dear Image keep,
Or still wake, that my senses may be free.