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Agaliha
June 29th, 2008, 03:24 AM
HYPORCHEME



Thus contend the maidens
In the cretic dance,
Rosy arms that glisten,
Eyes that glance;

Cheeks as fair as blossoms,
Parted lips that glow,
With their honeyed voices
Chanting low;

With their plastic bodies
Swaying to the flute,
Moving with the music
Never mute;

Graceful the orchestric
Figures they unfold,
While the vesper heaven
Turns to gold.