To your judgments give ye not the reins
With too much eagerness, like him who ere
The corn be ripe, is fain to count the grains:
For I have seen the briar through the winter snows
Look sharp and stiff—yet on a future day
High on its summit bear the tender rose:
And ship I’ve seen, that through the storm hath passed,
Securely bounding o’er the watery way,
At entrance of the harbor wrecked at last.
—Dante, translated by Wright.
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