Classic Poem

The Tempter was never so lacking in Grace
As to enter the Door that was Shut in his Face.

Like Children taking peeps at Pantry Shelves,
We think we're Tempted when we Tempt Ourselves.

H E flew among the Crows; then was it not
The Blackbird's fault, alone, that he was shot?

G IVE not the Daily Cobweb that enables
The Habit Witch to Twist her Binding Cables.

H OW slyly Slothful Habit saps the Will!
The Camel's Kick, though soft, is deadly, still.