Sandy, with her whispy/tawny hair;
Sandy, light and lithe, and dancing everywhere;
Sandy, like an easy western breeze,
Laughing like a puff-cloud o’er the seas.

A storm? A powerful, wrenching storm?
Oh, no. These namers are out of form.

Sandra, now, with black-brown smoldering eyes;
Sandra, sullen, stubborn, yet seeming wise;
Sandra, jealous, temper bursting out,
Shouting, hurling curses all about!

Sandra has swept boiling from the sea!
Sandy winks, and skips away with me.

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