...under her spell (her stare)...!

I am not of body,
I am not of soul,
I am not of mind,
Nor am I whole.

I am of boiling blood,
I am of mystic feather,
I am of wild thoughts,
I am of pieces, in quarrel together.

A spear into my senses,
A tasteful lightning-strike,
A "trojan" for my fences,
A sweet burning knife.

A dusty ocean-breeze,
A cold winters Port,
A poisonous summer freeze,
A wet Christmas stove.

The lion, king of jungle,
The saint, that is most humble,
The dying man, in bed,
The horse, that aint been fed;

...for under a spell (a stare)... I can not face,
I am nothing but a trace...!