THE FAIR SINGER
by: Andrew Marvell (1621-1678)
O make a final conquest of all me,- Love did compose so sweet an enemy,
- In whom both beauties to my death agree,
- Joining themselves in fatal harmony;
- That while she with her eyes my heart does bind,
- She with her voice might captivate my mind.
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- I could have fled from one but singly fair,
- My disentangled soul itself might save,
- Breaking the curled trammels of her hair.
- But how should I avoid to be her slave,
- Whose subtle art invisibly can wreath
- My fetters of the very air I breathe?
