My Love in Her Attire

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My love in her attire doth show her wit,
It doth so well become her:
For every season she hath dressings fit,
For winter, spring, and summer.
No beauty she doth miss,
When all her robes are on:
But Beauty's self she is,
When all her robes are gone.

2007: I Shall Forget You Presently, My Dear by Edna St. Vincent Millay