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Applauding youths laughed with young prostitutes
And watched her perfect, half-clothed body sway;
Her voice was like the sound of blended flutes
Blown by black players upon a picnic day.
She sang and danced on gracefully and calm,
The light gauze hanging loose about her form;
To me she seemed a proudly-swaying palm
Grown lovelier for passing through a storm.
Upon her swarthy neck black ,†‖ shiny curls
Luxuriant Profusely†‖ fell; and ,†‖ tossing coins in praise,
The wine-flushed, bold-eyed boys, and even the girls,
Devoured her shape†‖ with eager, passionate gaze;:†‖
But ,†‖ looking at her falsely-smiling face,
I knew her self was not in that strange place.