Page:Poems of Baudelaire Sturm.djvu/75

16 The harmony is far too great,
 * That governs all her body fair.

For impotence to analyse
 * And say which note is sweetest there.

O mystic metamorphosis !
 * My senses into one sense flow—

Her voice makes perfume when she speaks,
 * Her breath is music faint and low !”