Sorceress

What is all this noise and incantation? Is this sorceress a test of temptation? Her lips are sweet; her looks are chill What inhibited beauty she inhabits still Lord, pluck out my eyes; I care less If insipidly her looks, they're lesser blest. Her body is a lyre I must play. The need is urgent; send my valet away For from here now on, my verse is hers My songs, all but one, foul and terse Her music has cast a spell on me, yet And not a note misplayed or a fret. Her heavenly orb's blindfold is-well-kept Keep my arms around any other transept An enchantress of times gone by Only in death shall the heart and soul detoxify Such charms as these be not heaven-made I've dined with the devil; now I'm enslaved.