In its double skirt enwrapped,
Fair as aught I ever clapped
Eyes on, as when eyelids close
Over slumberful repose.

Opened to the light of day
By a dagger, you might say
‘Tis the pupil of an eye
Whetted on its lid, to spy.

Inwardly it doth appear
Soft and rounded as an ear
And, to make my image true,
With its convolutions too.