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SHE: Yet womanhood you reverence,
So you profess!


HE: With heart and soul.


SHE: Of which fact this is evidence!
To help Art-study,--for some dole
Of certain wretched shillings,--you
Induce a woman--virgin too--
To strip and stand stark naked?


HE: True.


SHE: Nor feel you so degrade her?


HE: What
--(Excuse the interruption)--clings
Half-savage-like around your hat?


SHE: Ah, do they please you? Wild-bird-wings
Next season,--Paris-prints assert,--
We must go feathered to the skirt:
My modiste keeps on the alert.
Owls, hawks, jays--swallows most approve ...


HE: Dare I speak plainly?


SHE: Oh, I trust!


HE: Then, Lady Blanche, it less would move
In heart and soul of me disgust
Did you strip off those spoils you wear,
And stand--for thanks, not shillings--bare,
To help Art like my Model there.
She well knew what absolved her--praise
In me for God's surpassing good,
Who granted to my reverent gaze
A type of purest womanhood.
You clothed with murder of His best
Of harmless beings--stand the test!
What is it you know?


SHE: That you jest!