For those who judge the efficacy of a mouthwash by its unpleasant taste, a rather nauseous remedy can be made from four ounces each of rose-water and plantain-water, an ounce of honey of roses […]

[…] still less was any face that rounded, Madonnalike softness in which the Indian sculptors had expressed the sanctities of lust.

A group of Black women came in later but only observed from the sidelines.

The louer refused of his loue imbraceth death. [poem title]