Her stares are like puddles of ebon chasm,
The skin is as tan as a glistered monument,
And her behavior is as delicate as cooing doves,
Soft is her strand, a nimbus of darkling, brighter, and regal,
She says a warm and tickling timbre Of cheerful lilting twines,
Enduring nonetheless in the timely Spring’s still chilling atmosphere,
Her voluptuous countenance is glimpsed and childlike in a smile....