Her lips were parted in laughter shewing magnificent teeth.

In her brown eyes one could read all the mysteries and tenderness of infinite motherhood.

Her hair was anyhow: a debauched wreckage of combs and wisps and hairpins.
Her barbaric beauty seemed to hold sleekness in contempt.

I wanted, just for the picture, half her bodice torn away.

For there they stood, male and female of an heroic age, in a travesty of modern garb.