Page 11
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"Yet love still sticks to her heart, through which she daily raves
The more for the sorrow of being repulsed.
Through restless strain and worry
Her body wastes away to skin and bone, and becomes wondrously bare.
The blood vanishes into the air from out of her veins,
And nothing is left but voice and bones: the voice yet still remains:
Her bones they say were turned to stones"