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By the ravenous teeth that have smitten
     Through the kisses that blossom and bud,
By the lips intertwisted and bitten
     Till the foam has a savour of blood,
By the pulse as it rises and falters,
     By the hands as they slacken and strain,
I adjure thee, respond from thine altars,
     Our Lady of Pain.

Algernon Swinburne, from Dolores (1866)