Poem My love in her attire doth show her wit, It doth so well become her: For every season she hath dressings fit, For winter, spring, and summer. No beauty she doth miss, When all her robes are on; But beauty's self she is, When all her robes are gone. Beauty in Women Posted by: n\a | Rating: 0.00 0 Give your vote +5 Post Comment: Your name: Your Email: Comments :

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