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Description
photo=intaglio (ImagOn) with roll-over color

So she was turned away
To hide her face, her lips, her guilt among the trees,
Even their leaves, to haunt the caves of the forest,
To feed her love on melancholy sorrow
Which, sleepless, turned her body to a shade,
First pale and wrinkled, then a sheet of air,
The bones, which some say turned to thin-worn rocks;
And last her voice remained. Vanished in forest,
Far from her usual walks on hills and valleys,
She's heard by all who call; her voice has life.
- Ovid, Metamorphoses

Description
photo=intaglio (ImagOn) with roll-over color

So she was turned away
To hide her face, her lips, her guilt among the trees,
Even their leaves, to haunt the caves of the forest,
To feed her love on melancholy sorrow
Which, sleepless, turned her body to a shade,
First pale and wrinkled, then a sheet of air,
The bones, which some say turned to thin-worn rocks;
And last her voice remained. Vanished in forest,
Far from her usual walks on hills and valleys,
She's heard by all who call; her voice has life.
- Ovid, Metamorphoses