[…] for her stainless soul transluced the fairest skin, making simplicity a grace, filling her large blue eyes with gentle rays; and her arch laughter with innocent mirth.
In this poem, the words defense/tense, know/go, and Spain/Maine are end-rhymes.
Here the cheers and shouts of the gallery were interrupted by a shabby little man in the back row who yelled out with piercing distinctness: “Don't matter what you call ’im now, George. The bugger’s dead.”
Efforts should be made to rebuild their quarters and neighborhoods instead of letting real estate agents and developers open the doors to the tourist industry, to WalMarting and to Disneyfication.
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DiQt（ディクト）
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