Upon a Black Twist Rounding the Arm of the Countess of Carlisle

I saw about her spotless wrist,Of blackest silk, a curious twist;Which, circumvolving gently, thereEnthrall'd her arm as prisoner.Dark was the jail, but as if lightHad met t'engender with the night;Or so as darkness made a stayTo show at once both night and day.One fancy more! but if there beSuch freedom in captivity,I beg of Love that ever IMay in like chains of darkness lie.