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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....