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!
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