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 seconds.
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