I will release my soul of argument. He that would love must follow with shut eyes. My reason of the years was discontent, My treasure for all hope a vain surmise. I will have done with wisdom`s sophistries, Her insolence of wit. What man shall say He comfort takes in the short hour that dies, Because he knew it mortal yesterday? The tree of knowledge bears a bitter fruit. This is that other tree, whose branches hold Fair store of faith, peace, pity absolute, And deeds of virtue for a world grown cold. If by its fruits the tree of life be known, Here is a truth undreamed of Solomon.SourceThe script ran 0.001 seconds.
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