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That's Amore!
Men might, (how could they know?) an angel wed,
And that paradise herself might lay
Atop a matrimonial bed...
Adorned in an odalisque array;
Proving that the ominous wedding bell
Is not the sound track of drooping lust
Or the knell of every libertine hell,
But of Cupid's bolt in harmonic thrust,
Forever striking satisfaction's mark
In every sound anatomical way
Which broad daylight, or a clandestine spark,
Allows for a far more civilized play
Of Aphrodite's most glamourous art
Ever beseeching more of Cupid's Dart!
And that paradise herself might lay
Atop a matrimonial bed...
Adorned in an odalisque array;
Proving that the ominous wedding bell
Is not the sound track of drooping lust
Or the knell of every libertine hell,
But of Cupid's bolt in harmonic thrust,
Forever striking satisfaction's mark
In every sound anatomical way
Which broad daylight, or a clandestine spark,
Allows for a far more civilized play
Of Aphrodite's most glamourous art
Ever beseeching more of Cupid's Dart!
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