But the draping roses, and the double bell of dress and overskirt — fiddly, too bloody fiddly!

And now Love sang: but his was such a song, So meshed with half-remembrance hard to free, As souls disused in death’s sterility May sing when the new birthday tarries long.

[> who is this annoying twit?] Somebody plugging one of those annoying MLMish ads-all-over sites where you get credit for dragging people in.

Me rather, bright guests! with your wings of upbuoyance, Bear aloft to your homes, to your banquets of joyance