 | By The Way |  |
4
TRIFLES
Slight are the colour'd threads that weave
The fabric of our days,
But swiftly, and without retrieve,
Th'incessant shuttle plays,
Each film is nothing as it goes,
The web a glaring pattern shows.
The fabric of our days,
But swiftly, and without retrieve,
Th'incessant shuttle plays,
Each film is nothing as it goes,
The web a glaring pattern shows.
An ill thought merely floating past,
Oh whiff it quick away!
Once touching, it may hook you fast
Till, like the spider's prey,
You feel a poison in your blood
Corrupting all the vital flood.
Oh whiff it quick away!
Once touching, it may hook you fast
Till, like the spider's prey,
You feel a poison in your blood
Corrupting all the vital flood.
To speak or write unholy things
Is true infernal work;
No man can tell what evil springs
From little seeds that lurk
In human hearts, at random sown;
A word's effect is never known.
Is true infernal work;
No man can tell what evil springs
From little seeds that lurk
In human hearts, at random sown;
A word's effect is never known.
| By The Way | |