| http://www.w3.org/ns/prov#value | - To praise her, I will share one of her poems:She Thinks She Hung the MoonMy head is a pincushion for darning needles.It is an egg containing its brood.It shares its nest with legions of Roman soldiers.Perhaps it is over-inhabited.It does not bite.My head is a tabernacle, it loves the smell of frankincense.If my head were a prison it would be empty.
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