Lo! very fair is she who knows the ways Of joy: in pleasure`s mocking wisdom old, The eyes that might be cold to flattery, kind; The hair that might be grey with knowledge, gold. But thou art more than these things, O my queen, For thou art clad in ancient wars and tears. And looking forth, framed in the crown of thorns, I saw the youngest face in all the spheres.SourceThe script ran 0.009 seconds.
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