"...."No single beauty is the bestWhen she is all one flower divine.

When all things charm me I ignoreWhich one alone brings most delight;She shines before me like the dawn,And she consoles me like the night.

The harmony is far too great,That governs all her body fair.For impotence to analyseAnd 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!"

— F.P. Sturm, from Baudelaire: His Prose and Poetry, edited by Thomas Robert Smith (New York: Boni and Liveright, 1919)