A silver wolf climbs a steep, winding slope, and the poem plays with a strange fact about the climb: the farther the wolf goes, the closer the goal seems, yet the mountain keeps shifting. When the wolf finally reaches the top, the sky has turned black, and the mountain looks smaller than it did from below. Then a piece of ground gives way and the wolf tumbles down.
The ending is the surprising part. The wolf is hurt but alive, and the peak now rises above the clouds, as if the real summit was never where it stood. So it climbs the same trail again, "for this was all it knew."
The speaker stays calm and observant, never openly sad. The mood is quietly bleak but also stubborn. The title, "Illusion," suggests that goals can mislead us, and the poem leaves us wondering whether the wolf's persistence is brave or simply habit.