Acantha/LadyOfPain
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Our Lady of Seven Sorrows
Cold eyelids that hide like a jewel Hard eyes that grow soft for an hour; The heavy white limbs, and the cruel Red mouth like a venomous flower; When these are gone by with their glories, What shall rest of thee then, what remain, O mystic and somber Dolores, Our Lady of Pain? -- Algernon Charles Swinburne, "Dolores (Notre-Dame des Sept Douleurs)"
