Patience! coy singers of the Delphic wood,
The brightest sun tempts forth the viper brood;
And, of all insects buds and blooms enclose,
The one that stinks the most infests the rose.
“But for your Terror
Where would be Valour?
What is Love for
But to stand in your way?
Take and Giver,
For all your endeavour
You leave us with more
Than you touch with decay.”