An English Harlot, a Villanelle

She rises in the gay morning
and looks just like a lark,
but know her and you'll know the dark.

A songbird of the rocky light,
she croons in Satan's church by night
and rises in the gay morning.

The lads are gone when her they see
astride the air and wracked with glee,
since knowing her they'll know the dark.

Removed from all the worldly blights
that mortify us in His sight,
she rises in the gay morning.

And so she walks as nude as Pan,
her breasts as tough as any man,
they having known men and the dark.

An English harlot on the woods’ flooring
she mourns for bedlam's unheard hark,
then rises in the gay morning
And seeks a man to know, and know the dark.