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a web of many textures

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We 're swayed a thousand ways by woman's wiles,
And every day admit her sovereign power:
We bend, delighted, to her potent smiles,
We bend when tears outpour in plenteous shower;
Her witchery of grace bows low our hearts,
Her winning voice has conquest in its tone,
We yield us captive to the myriad arts
That round our pathway hem us like a zone.
By her sweet lips we swear our lives away,
We vow eternal homage to her eyes,
The raven curl round her white neck astray
The magic of her power intensifies!
But most we bow beneath sweet woman's sway,
When walking 'neath a clothes-line on a washing day.