Your response was a scratch on the lid of my eye,
And I left it at that, and I asked for no more.
Was I right? I can hardly believe I was wrong,
Though the Briar has grown through the paling again,
And the devil may guide it uninjured along
E’er I put myself twice to such horrible pain.
By Heavens! I would rather forever forswear
The pleasure that lies in a garden that’s neat
Than disturb for a moment the thorns that are there,
Or banish the Briar which people call sweet!