Tout Entire - (Twelve Translations From Charles Baudelaire)

This morning in my attic high              The Demon came to visit me,          And seeking faults in my reply,              He said: "I would inquire of thee,          "Of all the beauties which compose              Her charming body's potent spell,          Of all the objects black and rose              Which make the thing you love so well,          "Which is the sweetest?" O my soul!              Thou didst rejoin: "How tell of parts,          When all I know is that the whole              Works magic in my heart of hearts?          "Where all is fair, how should I say              What single grace is my delight?          She shines on me like break of day              And she consoles me as the night.          "There flows through all her perfect frame              A harmony too exquisite          That weak analysis should name              The numberless accords of it.          "O mystic metamorphosis!              My separate senses all are blent;          Within her breath soft music is,              And in her voice a subtle scent!"