She Dances With The Devil (2) Poem by john thomas

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!