You would be alarmed of how sulphurous it is, how sickeningly sweet. The smell of gunpowder was strong in the room. And son of a pig,’ she grunted, baring her teeth. Annabel shines like a star in the darkness, Rosamund queens it a rose, deep rose; But the lady I love is like sunshine in April weather, She gleams and gladdens, she warms—and goes.
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