What glorious sunsets have their birth In Cities fouled by smoke! This tree — whose roots are in a drain — Becomes the greenest Oak! No hand's more gentle than a thief's, Greed has the brightest eyes; And by their straight, clear, honest looks, Great villains live on lies! Yet Love, whose source is sweet and pure, Still makes no question why A thief should have more gentle hands, Or Greed a brighter eye. |