O, What A Tangled Web We Weave

Here Eglantine Embalm'd The Air, Hawthorne And Hazel Mingled There; The Primrose Pale, And Violet Flower, Found In Each Cliff A Narrow Bower; Fox-glove And Nightshade, Side By Side, Emblems Of Punishment And Pride, Group'd Their Dark Hues With Every Stain The Weather-beaten Crags Retain.

When Israel, Of The Lord Belov'd, Out Of The Land Of Bondage Came, Her Fathers' God Before Her Mov'd, An Awful Guide In Smoke And Flame.

What Is A Diary As A Rule? A Document Useful To The Person Who Keeps It. Dull To The Contemporary Who Reads It And Invaluable To The Student, Centuries Afterwards, Who Treasures It.

In Listening Mood She Seemed To Stand, The Guardian Naiad Of The Strand.

True Love's The Gift Which God Has Given To Man Alone Beneath The Heaven: It Is Not Fantasy's Hot Fire, Whose Wishes Soon As Granted Fly; It Liveth Not In Fierce Desire.