The Devil and I had a chat
This morning in my snuggery;
Trying to catch me in a lapse,
'Tell me', he said beseechingly,
'Among the many charming things
Of which her body is composed
That make her so enrapturing,
Among the objects, black or rose,
Which is the sweetest.' 0 my soul!
You foiled the Tempter with these words:
'Since all is solace in the whole
No single thing may be preferred.
I can't, when all is ravishing,
Say some one thing seduces me.
She is the Daybreak's dazzling,
The Night's consoling sympathy.
And the exquisite government
The harmony her grace affords,
Makes analytics impotent
To note its numerous accords.
O mystic metamorphoses
In me, my senses all confused!
She makes a music when she breathes,
Sounds of her voice are sweet perfumes!'