She Dances With the Devil

So fine and sweet she art, ‘My Love’, To tear the eye of purest Dove, And none could ere but say - ‘Tis with an Angel, that you lay’ And to her beauty, low I bow, Whilst in her wraith! O, I do cow’, For both are of her fame – Two faces of the same, For in a moment, at a glance, To Pipers blow for changeling dance She opens heart as door, And dance does purge what’s pure, Then though there’s no intent or sin, My Angel lets the Devil in!