Not foliage green, but of a fusk colour, Not branches smooth, but gnarled and intertangled not apple-tress were there, but thorns with poison. - Dante Alighieri

Now you must needs,' my teacher said, 'shake off your wonted indolence. No fame is won beneath the quilt or sunk in feather cushions. Whoever, fameless, wastes his life away, leaves of himself no greater mark on earth than smoke in air or froth upon the wave. So upwards! On! And vanquish laboured breath! In any battle mind-power will prevail, unless the weight of the body loads it down. There's a yet longer ladder you must scale. You can't just turn and leave all these behind. You understand? Well, make my words avail,

The allegory is the soul of the poem, but like the soul within the body it does not show itself in independent existence.

Now you can plainly see how deeply hidden truth is from scrutinists who would insist that every love is, in itself, praiseworthy; and they are led to error by the matter of love, because it may seem-always-good; but not each seal is fine, although the wax is.