Around my appeals, repetitious of love
The temple of Venus, to accomadate
Does out of the ether swirl.
Aromas and all, of such fusty date
My pate hath the roman curl!
A sound, first timid approaches, unapproached
In beauty, except by those enchanted
It flings, in classical dance.
Goblet that gleams, which of these long dead
Is pled of Expectance?
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