THE VINE-TANGLE 



Life sometimes a tangle seems, 

 In our waking or our dreams; 

 Like the vine from treetops torn 

 By the warring winds in scorn, 

 While the faded leaves complain, 

 Burden-bowed with winter rain; 

 Twined and gnarled in spiral lines, 

 Droop the storm-disheveled vines; 

 Stealing through the falling rain 

 Comes a soft and sweet refrain- 

 Singing what, I scarcely knew 

 "Beauty weaves the tangle, too!" 

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