by Christine Hamilton Watson

Alas, my fond desire is "Will-o'-the-Wisp"!
He holds me charmed with glimmer clear and crisp,
Yet teases me with his elusive wile,
Which frees me, only backward to beguile.

A phantom "Will-o'-the-Wisp" is my desire!
I reach for its reflected light, but higher,
Now here, now there, it dances in my eyes,
Dazzling and blinding—then away it flies.

Oh deep desire, oh haunting "Will-o'-the-Wisp",
With those sweet hopes and longings that you lisp,
Torment me not with your evasive spell,
Release me, please, till I charm you as well!

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