The Je Ne Sais Quoi / William Whitehead

The Je Ne Sais Quoi
Yes, I’m in love, I feel it now, And Celia has undone me; And yet I swear I can’t tell how The pleasing pain stole on me. ’Tis not her face which love creates, For there no graces revel; ’Tis not her shape, for there the fates Have rather been uncivil. ’Tis not her air, for sure in that There’s nothing more than common; And all her sense is only chat, Like any other woman. Her voice, her touch, might give th’ alarm; ’Twas both, perhaps, or neither; In short, ’twas that provoking charm Of Celia altogether.