And, when you stick on conversation's burrs, Don't strew your pathway with those dreadful urs.
And when you stick on conversation’s burrs, Don't strew your pathway with those dreadful urs.
But strength alone though of the Muses born Is like a fallen angel: trees uptorn, Darkness, and worms, and shrouds, and sepulchres Delight it; for it feeds upon the burrs, And thorns of life; forgetting the great end Of poesy, that it should be a friend To sooth the cares, and lift the thoughts of man.john keats
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