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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=407881" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Crossed Threads</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=407881" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">The silken threads by viewless spinners spun, <br>Which float so idly on the summer air, <br>And help to make each summer morning fair, <br>Shining like silver in the summer sun, <br>Are caught by wayward breezes, one by one, <br>Are blown to east and west and fastened there, <br>Weaving on all the roads their sudden snare. <br>No sign which road doth safest, freest run, <br>The wingèd insects know, that soar so gay <br>To meet their death upon each summer day. <br>How dare we any human deed arraign; <br>Attempt to recon any moment's cost; <br>Or any pathway trust as safe and plain <br>Because we see not where the threads have crossed?</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Helen+Hunt+Jackson">Helen Hunt Jackson</a></strong></div>

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