Judge mildly the tasked world; and disincline To brand it, for it bears a heavy pack. You have perchance observed the inebriate`s track At night when he has quitted the inn-sign: He plays diversions on the homeward line, Still that way bent albeit his legs are slack: A hedge may take him, but he turns not back, Nor turns this burdened world, of curving spine. `Spiral,` the memorable Lady terms Our mind`s ascent: our world`s advance presents That figure on a flat; the way of worms. Cherish the promise of its good intents, And warn it, not one instinct to efface Ere Reason ripens for the vacant place.SourceThe script ran 0.002 seconds.
The script ran 0.002 seconds.
