That idea of URL was the basic clue to the universality of the Web. That was the only thing I insisted upon.
quote by Tim Berners Lee
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Related quotes
The Problem of the Idea
The Philosopher:
'The Problem of the 21st century
is the problem of the Origins of the Idea.'
The Idea has driven much
of human history-
a major motivator
many taken together are
Articulators;
Ideas compose all Human Dreams.
But ask what is this Idea
and silence ensues;
ask where is it
in the human mind
and we'll get charts of its activity centers
but nothing about what it is
or where it comes from.
The Scientist:
Well, we don't have to know what a thing is
to utilize it.
We can identify behaviors and integrate
them-
harness them to purpose.
Philosopher:
Sure like the Atomic Bomb. It was built because
we could integrate various disciplines
and make things go bang
without thinking of Consequence.
technical Ideas-too have consequences.
Scientist:
So you would hold up all human progress
until the over-arching Idea comes along
before we act?
Philosopher:
Ah, but note that progress that destroys
the planet is not
progress at all
but only a blind mistake;
one I might add,
that did not have
an Idea or Clue
[...] Read more
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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Spin, Spin
So fine, so fine the web you spin,
I come too close and Im caught again!
In the web of wild design,
I do not know what fate is mine!
All the day sit and spin,
Spin your web and you draw me in.
Spin, spin, spin, spin!
And my daddy said when I was young,
Beware the web of love, my son,
To be in love is to be insane,
Make an old man groan, a young man pain!
All the day, sit and spin,
Spin your web and you draw me in.
Spin, spin, spin, spin!
Then I did go and the time did fly,
Many a true love passed me by.
And then you came like a blinding storm,
I landed in your web so warm,
Spin your web and you draw me in.
Spin, spin, spin, spin!
So fine, so fine the web you spin,
I come too close and Im caught again!
In the web of wild desire,
And I cannot control the fire!
All the day sit and spin,
You spin your web and you draw me in.
song performed by Gordon Lightfoot
Added by Lucian Velea
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Spin, Spin (New York Remake Version)
So fine, so fine the web you spin,
I come too close and I'm caught again!
In the web of wild design,
I do not know what fate is mine!
All the day sit and spin,
Spin your web and you draw me in.
Spin, spin, spin, spin!
And my daddy said when I was young,
"Beware the web of love, my son,
To be in love is to be insane,
Make an old man groan, a young man pain!"
All the day, sit and spin,
Spin your web and you draw me in.
Spin, spin, spin, spin!
Then I did go and the time did fly,
Many a true love passed me by.
And then you came like a blinding storm,
I landed in your web so warm,
Spin your web and you draw me in.
Spin, spin, spin, spin!
So fine, so fine the web you spin,
I come too close and I'm caught again!
In the web of wild desire,
And I cannot control the fire!
All the day sit and spin,
You spin your web and you draw me in.
song performed by Gordon Lightfoot
Added by Lucian Velea
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Rebel Without A Clue
(jim steinman)
Producer for bonnie: jim steinman
Youre a tough tail-gunner in a pitch black chevy
Cruising in the moonlight
Ooh your aim is steady
Your eyes are hungry and your hands are ready
You shot me where you wanted
You put me in a daze
No matter where youre going, youll always be a stranger
Getting into trouble, getting off on danger
Riding out of town like a cool lone ranger
When theres nothing to lose, you gotta call your own plays
Did anybody say something incredibly stupid
Like there isnt any paradise
But I remember the songs and I remember the story
I remember the thrills and I remember the glory
So hold me - hold me in your arms
Deliver me from growing old
Hold me - hold me in your arms
Shelter me from going cold
Im a shot in the dark without you
A rebel without a clue
Rebel without a clue
I dont know what to say and I dont know what to do
Standing on the corner in my boots and my leather
A little over the edge, a little under the weather
Just a rebel without a clue
Im tired and lonely and crying for you
I know just when to sulk and I know just how to pose
Dirty harry to madonna
Ive been learning all the roles
So hold me baby, hold me a little longer
Need me baby just a little stronger tonight
Move it darling move a little quicker
Prove it darling blood is really thicker tonight
Drive on darling drive a little farther
Dream on darling dream a little harder tonight
Teach me baby teach me how to love you
Without me youre just another rebel without a clue
Its been a long hot summer and its just the beginning
So keep our motor running and your tires spinning
So many places that Ive wanted to be in
Take me where youre going - away beyond above -
Well see a little action, relieve a little tension
Stuff Id like to try that I shouldnt even mention
Ive gone so far that - Im way beyond redemption
Theres nothing to it really - I think they call it love
Did anybody say something incredibly stupid
Like there isnt any paradise
But I remember the songs and I remember the story
[...] Read more
song performed by Bonnie Tyler
Added by Lucian Velea
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Too Much In-The-Love
A position of proposition kept.
Researched...
With a common sense,
Not academic!
I am not someone to invite to test.
But I've never met an obstacle...
That has of yet,
Made me unhappy because we've met.
'Cause I'm...
Too much in-the-love!
Yes,
I'm...
Just too basic.
I studied all the books in school.
And as a rule I found this true...
I am,
Too much in-the-love!
Yes!
And...
Just too basic.
My Masters and my Doctorate,
I got early in life.
And the military taught me...
To be,
Decisive!
A position of proposition kept.
Researched...
With a common sense,
Not academic!
'Cause I'm...
Too much in-the-love!
Yes,
In-the-LOVE!
And...
Just 'too' basic.
My 'degree' is in my 'own' history!
And my proposition spoken,
Is in my position...
Stated!
Too much in-the-love!
Yes,
In-the-LOVE!
[...] Read more
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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An Idea
An Idea can change the world, how many
things can be done from an idea, every piece
of object was an idea, sense the beginning of
time idea was the first thought created in the
mind, an idea is what surround’s every being.
But an idea is still only an idea and it can't be
felt, you cannot touch an idea or kiss it, or hold it,
ideas do not bleed or feel pain or love, an idea
cannot be seen or heard, its created in our thoughts,
but then again an idea can become real. An idea
can be what ever you which it to be, an idea can
be destructive, an idea can be brilliant, I've seen
people get killed in the name of ideas, ideas,
we walk around with a little
light bulb blinking in our thoughts, ideas.
poem by Elenushka Toledo
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When You Rush To Judgement
You have no idea,
What you've done.
You have no idea...
None.
You have no idea,
What you've done.
You have no idea...
Not a one.
Oh, oh, oh...
When you rush to judgement,
Your emotions are your worst enemy.
When you rush to judgement,
Your emotions are your worst enemy.
When you rush to judgement,
Your emotions are your worst enemy.
When you rush to judgement.
Oh, oh, oh...
When you rush to judgement.
To pass your judgements,
When you rush to judgement.
You have no idea,
What you've done.
You have no idea...
None.
You have no idea,
What you've done.
You have no idea...
Not a one.
When you rush to judgement,
You have no idea.
No idea.
None.
When you rush to judgement,
No one has an idea...
What they've done.
When you rush to judgement,
What one does...
Affects more than one.
When you rush to judgement.
When you rush to judgement.
You have no idea,
What you've done.
You have no idea...
None.
[...] Read more
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Gates Of Tomorrow
Weaving a thread round your heart and your soul
Deceiving your eyes and delaying your goal
Ships in the night when they pass out of sight
Deliver their cargo of earthly delights
To the women and the children the souls of the dead
I've opened their book and no mercy is shed
You want forgiveness and you want it cheap
I don't give redemption rewards for the meek
Suffering evil when you pay the price of fame
There isn't a god to save you if you don't save yourself
You can't blame a madman if you go insane
Give me the strength so I carry on
Trapped in the web but I cut the threads
Show you the gates of tomorrow
Trapped in the web no mercy is shed
Show you the gates of tomorrow
Trapped in the web slaves to the dead
Show you the gates of tomorrow
Trapped in the web but I cut the threads
Show you the gates of tomorrow
Suffering evil when you pay the price of fame
There isn't a god to save you if you don't save yourself
You can't blame a madman if you go insane
Give me the strength so I carry on
Trapped in the web but I cut the threads
Show you the gates of tomorrow
Trapped in the web no mercy is shed
Show you the gates of tomorrow
Trapped in the web slaves to the dead
Show you the gates of tomorrow
Trapped in the web but I cut the threads
Show you the gates of tomorrow
song performed by Iron Maiden
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Spider's Web
The spider weaves a web so it can catch its prey
wherever it is convenient to take its hunger away.
An intricate net so finely built yet strong to withhold
all those creatures of nature that get caught in its fold.
The spider knows it will most likely do its job well
and so in the course of the day only time will tell.
It is only when something bigger comes along the way
that the web will break and from its foundations stray.
It’s made to withstand the elements of wind, rain or shine
though it appears in structure to be very delicate and fine.
It never ceases to amaze me with what precision it is made
the work of a skilled artist and product of non-human trade.
It’s made of the same basic material as the silk of the worm
which the spider spins out of its body but is sticky and firm.
The purpose behind the two though has a different motive
being to the both of them uniquely characteristic or native.
I wouldn’t like to be one of those creatures caught in the web
struggling desperately to get away and feeling its own life ebb.
The length and trouble some creatures go to in life to survive
is part of the drama that goes on in nature to keep them alive.
The spider’s web hangs securely moving gently with the breeze
and is fastened onto stationary objects that support it with ease.
Its creator waits patiently at the centre for the right time to come
when the web gives signs that food has arrived again hmm…yum.
If you then happen to see a spider’s web that’s along your way
don’t go and deliberately pull it down as it is a crime I must say.
Unless abandoned or an interference let it catch the spider’s main feed
which is based on its natural instinct of survival and not that of greed.
poem by George Krokos
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Life and Happiness
Happiness in life each year now,
Takes brute strength, like pushing a cow,
Pray do not ask how,
The spider spins an intricate web around life,
A magic web now is around life
Happiness is what we make it,
Life can be better than music, if we let it,
Music can fill the air with life and happiness,
There is music in life and happiness, if we let it happen,
Everyday sounds around that intricate web of life,
Protected by that magic web,
Happiness in life each year now,
Takes brute strength, like pushing a cow,
Pray do not ask how,
Take brute strength, like pushing a cow,
That intricate web around life, is magic,
Life can be enjoyed, create happiness around you,
Music can fill the air with life and happiness,
Life takes brute strength, as you imagine,
A hidden strength,
Work at life and happiness, each day, each year,
Let that spider who spins an intricate web around life,
Now a magic web, create life and happiness.
poem by Batibchar Mocculta
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Worldwide Web Of Mind
The spider with which, with whom,
I share the sunshine of these late summer days
and the front garden – though in truth,
the silver filigree denies me two-thirds of it,
so broad the span of this ambitious engineer –
the spider which or who has grown so large
that its claws are some rapacious hawk in miniature,
almost scary in their taloned, threatening curve,
and which yesterday sat immobile in the centre of its web
either sleeping, or awaiting, or perhaps both,
is not there today; and I recall that yesterday
it had a silvery bag attached to it, which now I guess
could be some exquisite womb worn like a jewelled pride
which needs no protection..the web’s undamaged
so surely no marauding bird has pecked the spider
from the undamaged centre of this web?
Where has the spider chosen, for its special day,
Its birthing place, its private ward –
and does it have its huge emotions in miniature,
its pride, its special love, around that tiny thing?
There is no clue; the guy-ropes of its web are silent.
Will I see it in the next few days
teaching its baby all its circus tricks,
abseil, swing, launch in the wind to far-off unknown lands?
Or is it true that, having borne a little brood,
this creature, so magniificent,
gives its life to them, to c arry on the silken line?
does it know that sacrifice it makes
which is as noble as that of any man?
and will its brood also carry in their blood
a memory, inherited, that there,
across the front garden, six feet from East to West,
that silken line their mother made -
their only inheritance from her, apart from life itself,
awaits their darning needle?
I inspect carefully the web, as one might inspect
and read the menu for some blind lunching friend;
amused a little, embarrassed a little, solemn a little,
as the Creation’s relative dimensions
shrink, expand, draw me into the web of universal mind;
a filigree humility; a life not owned but shared.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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It's that day again
Come one, come all and gather round
hear the sound
the story and tale
let not your ears fail
not now, for this is of great importance
Im not looking for acceptance
but for your deliverance
I must save you from what i did
by this vein i must forbid
you to guard your heart, for there is a lurking evil that consumes the young
an evil that rolls off the tongue
is sweet to hear, sweet to the hear, and dear
on this day on this February the thirteenth do not express
your love for someone until you address
this problem, because it's the ideas that are the worst poison
this is what ruins a person
before you profess that love, make certain
that you profess not in vain
for this is the simple trap that ensnares men
its the idea, the idea of her are you blind it's the idea thats trapped you again
Your LOVE is not true, because you are in love the idea of her
and when weeks pass and trials come... she will concur
that your love was imagined, you loved that way she made you feel
the way she held you and made you feel warm, so surreal
but that's not love, you imagined your dream girl
but fell in love with someone else, only to find that all along you loved an idea
that was the object of your love, this idea you made, let your reality unfurl
see past your blindness and see you never loved her and dont make
the mistake that i made, and dont you dare fake
this love, because you feel so lonely, don't settle for less but wait
for your real mate
it's that day, that day i remember, what not to do
now i come to you
to save, redeem, deliver, and expose this wrong this threatens the life
you need not fear if you guard your heart and trust in Him who can be trusted
your First Love, but do not forget that this world is rife
with that temptation to love the idea of a girl, dont get caught busted
the idea is so much more dangerous than the room, and yet it will
beg your love, as you attempt to wait, don't love an idea that is abstract
resist its power to attract
do not let it kill
as it has done to many before
and will do to more a score
tread carefully my friend, for you tread the ground trod by those who fell
in love with ideas so keep not your heart on your sleeve
but guard it in armor and do not tell
a girl that you love her, when you love an idea, don't be naive
poem by David Knox
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Www.
At night, I sit in this darkened room
And stare at the hollow screen,
The World-Wide Web is a crystal ball
Of tides, and hopes, and dreams,
Though the world goes on outside my door
And time, it flows like the sea,
I have no truck with reality
When the web washes over me.
For I dredge the depths with a grappling hook
And I haul my catch on board,
Then I read the thoughts of a million minds
That were left on the furthest shore,
While the colours swirl and the lights go dim
And the sounds fade from without,
I float in the mass of cyberspace
'Til the light of the moon goes out.
Then emails beat at my cyber door
To ask if I'll let them in,
I cast my net for the viruses,
And choke the Recycle bin,
I stare at faces I've never seen
That float on a cyber wave,
Which disappear as the next comes near
For two are never the same.
But one returns, and it stares at me
And I see the limpid eyes,
Like pools in deep lagoons offshore
Where the mermaid lives and dies,
While the lips are full of promises
As false as the deepest sin,
I reach on out to the screen, but find
That the screen won't let me in.
Then night on night, like a dread parade
Those pictures come again,
From some lost ancient URL
Long gone from the world of men,
I search and Google in cyberspace
In hopes that you're somewhere there,
But all I have are those limpid eyes
And the bands in your dark brown hair.
One night, I'll leap right through the screen
And swim to your blue lagoon,
I'll take bright garlands of pretty flowers
To gladden the cyber gloom,
We'll live forever behind the screen
[...] Read more
poem by David Lewis Paget
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The Sinner and The Spider
Sinner.
What black, what ugly crawling thing art thou?
Spider.
I am a spider——————-
Sinner.
A spider, ay, also a filthy creature.
Spider.
Not filthy as thyself in name or feature.
My name entailed is to my creation,
My features from the God of thy salvation.
Sinner.
I am a man, and in God's image made,
I have a soul shall neither die nor fade,
God has possessed me with human reason,
Speak not against me lest thou speakest treason.
For if I am the image of my Maker,
Of slanders laid on me He is partaker.
Spider.
I know thou art a creature far above me,
Therefore I shun, I fear, and also love thee.
But though thy God hath made thee such a creature,
Thou hast against him often played the traitor.
Thy sin has fetched thee down: leave off to boast;
Nature thou hast defiled, God's image lost.
Yea, thou thyself a very beast hast made,
And art become like grass, which soon doth fade.
Thy soul, thy reason, yea, thy spotless state,
Sin has subjected to th' most dreadful fate.
But I retain my primitive condition,
I've all but what I lost by thy ambition.
Sinner.
Thou venomed thing, I know not what to call thee,
The dregs of nature surely did befall thee,
Thou wast made of the dross and scum of all,
Man hates thee; doth, in scorn, thee spider call.
Spider.
[...] Read more
poem by John Bunyan
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Infrequently Asked Questions
Is it true
the most compassionate people in life
are the ones in the greatest danger?
That the most generous
will lose their hands to the ones they fed?
That the bravest will be hunted down by protected cowards
and when the last of the heroes are dead
and the dragons who inspired them
are the advertising themes of amusement parks
those with the smallest balls
will give themselves the biggest awards?
Is it true
those who are creative
chafe the destroyers like anti-matter
and give the intellectuals diaper-rash of the mind?
That just to open your eyes
to watch the stars and fireflies
is enough to make other people feel blind
and insist you black them out
like pearls in an air-raid?
What's a starmap to a mole?
What's a lamp that shines in braille
to someone without fingerprints?
Is it true that beauty summons the worm
as a material eye-witness to its ruin?
That genius is devoured
by cannibalistic Neanderthals
into homoeopathic magic
for the power of its brain
to turn thought into protein
with a high creatine content
that can make your dick strike twelve anachronistically
so you can go on knapping flint
for the next hundred thousand years?
That genius is a freak in isolation
that gets its own back
for being pecked at
like a phoenix among chickens
by opening Pandora's box
like the atom at Los Alamos
like the genie in the lamp
and making a Trojan horse of its gifts
gives them everything they want
because anything as red
as Van Gogh's hair and beard and ear in Arles
must be either a phoenix
or a fox with chicken-pox.
Sometimes you have more to fear
from the keys
than the locks.
[...] Read more
poem by Patrick White
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The Web
(derek disck/steve rothery/ pete trewavas/ micheal pointer/mark kelly/brian jellyman)
The rain auditions at my window
Its symphony echoes in my womb
My gaze scans the walls of this apartment
To rectify the confines of my tomb
Im the cyclops in the tenement
Im the soul without the cause
Crying midst my rubber plants, ignoring beckoning doors
Clippings from ancient newspapers lie scattered cross the floor
Stained by the wine from a shattered glass
Meaningless words
Yellowed by time
Faded photos exposing pain
Celluloid leeches bleeding my mind
Christ, youve finished playing hangman
Youve cast the fateful dice
Advice, advice, advice me, this shroud will not suffice
And thus begins the web
Attempting to discard these clinging memories
I only serve to wallow in our past
I fabricate the weave with my excuses
Its strands I hope and pray shall last
Oh please do last
Oh please do last
The flytrap needs the insects
Ivy caresses the wall
Needles make love to the junkies
The sirens seduce with their call
Confidence has deserted me, with you it has forsaken me
Confused and rejected, despised and alone, I kiss isolation on its fevered brow
Security clutching me
Obscurity threatening me
Christ, your reasons were so obvious as my friends have qualified
I only laughed away your tears, but even jesters cry
But even jesters cry
I realise I hold the key to freedom
Oh I cannot let my life be ruled by threads
The time has come to make decisions
The changes have to be made
I realise I hold the key to freedom
I cannot let my life be ruled by threads
The time has come to make decisions
The changes have to be made
Now I leave you
The past does have its say
Youre all but forgotten
A mote in my heart
Decisions have been made
Theyve been made
Decisions have been made
[...] Read more
song performed by Marillion
Added by Lucian Velea
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ODE TO A SUPERHERO
Parody of "Piano Man" by Billy Joel
Poor Peter Parker was pitiful
Couldn't have been any shyer
Mary Jane still wouldn't notice him
Even if his hair was on fire
But then one day he went to that science lab
That mutated spider came down
Oh, and now Peter crawls over everyone's walls
And he's swingin' all over town
La li la, li de da
La la, li le la da dom
Sling us a web, you're the Spider-Man
Sling us a web tonight
'Cause we're all in the mood for a hero now
And there's evil-doers to fight
Now Harry the rich kid's a friend of his
Who horns in on Mary Jane
But to his great surprise it seems she prefers guys
Who can kiss upside-down in the rain
"With great power comes great responsibility"
That's the catch phrase of old Uncle Ben
If you missed it, don't worry, they'll say the line
Again and again and again
Oh, la la la, di de da
La la, di di da da dom
Now Norman's a billionaire scientist
Who never had time for his son
But then something went screwy and before you knew he
Was trying to kill everyone
And he's ridin' around on that glider thing
And he's throwin' that weird pumpkin bomb
Yes, he's wearin' that dumb Power Rangers mask
But he's scarier without it on
Sling us a web, you're the Spider-Man
Sling us a web tonight
'Cause you're brave and you're strong and so limber now
But where'd you come up with those tights?
It's a pretty sad day at the funeral
Norman Osborn has bitten the dust
And I heard Harry's said he wants Spider-Man dead
Aw, but his buddy Pete he can trust
Oh, and M.J. is all hot for Peter now
Aw, but Peter, he just shuts her down
Mary Jane, don't you cry, you can give it a try
Again when the sequel comes 'round
Oh, la la la, di de da
La la, di di da da dom
Sling us a web, you're the Spider-Man
Sling us a web tonight
'Cause we all sure could use us a hero now
[...] Read more
song performed by Weird Al Yankovic
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Orb Weaver Spider
The Orb Weaver spider spins her web,
Round and round and round.
She works away slowly and silently,
Without making a single sound.
She's patient and determined,
No matter how long it takes,
And, if the web gets badly damaged,
The whole thing she will just remake.
She secures her new web
Between a fence and a washing line,
Then retreats into the middle of it,
Hoping that everything will be just fine.
Unfortunately, the house owner
Hangs her tea towel right there.
The web is now in tatters
And has to be repaired.
This situation with the tea towel,
Happens again and again and again.
Having to repair the web constantly,
Is starting to become a really big pain.
Having seen this fine work of art hung there,
The owner shows the spider no respect.
She just carries on hanging it there regardless.
Whether the web is there or not, she hasn't checked.
The spider and the house owner
Are now at war and neither will give in.
Neither of them will budge an inch,
So neither of them will ever win.
But, the year rolls on and on.
Like the rest of her kind, the spider will die.
One day, she's just not there anymore,
Having gone to meet her maker in the sky.
poem by Angela Wybrow
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Relieved again was I
A summer afternoon
Sun hidden in clouds
That formed a thin screen
Over the entire sky
Dispersed sun light
Crows flying in a formation
As I was witnessing
Through a window from
The sixth floor
Doves fluttering from
One window to the other
Hot wind blowing but
Adding some comfort to
The sweating and mildly drenched body
And wiping off some sweat inside
Busy traffic down on the roads
Exhausts’ spewing
Screaming brakes
And sudden halts
Sleepy gulmohar leaves with
Yellow little flowers on top
My eyes shifted to a bee
As it passed near my face
With a zing and a sharp sound
How quick and smart it was
I stopped watching outside
But inside the balcony
My eyes following the fast bee, our hero
Oh, my god he got stuck
Onto to a spider web
A net spread to catch a prey
“Our hero bee is a prey now”
Was my inner cry
No he was not letting that happen
Struggling with his legs
And trying to get out of the web
A big spider in the middle of the web
Woke up off its sleep
Because of ripples in the web
And fast approaching its prey
Struggle on one side
Chase on the other
Spider almost reached its prey
With its legs placed in a position
Over the struggling bee
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poem by Bashyam Narayanan
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The Lady of Shalott (1832)
PART I
On either side the river lie
Long fields of barley and of rye,
That clothe the wold and meet the sky;
And thro' the field the road runs by
To many-tower'd Camelot;
The yellow-leaved waterlily
The green-sheathed daffodilly
Tremble in the water chilly
Round about Shalott.
Willows whiten, aspens shiver.
The sunbeam showers break and quiver
In the stream that runneth ever
By the island in the river
Flowing down to Camelot.
Four gray walls, and four gray towers
Overlook a space of flowers,
And the silent isle imbowers
The Lady of Shalott.
Underneath the bearded barley,
The reaper, reaping late and early,
Hears her ever chanting cheerly,
Like an angel, singing clearly,
O'er the stream of Camelot.
Piling the sheaves in furrows airy,
Beneath the moon, the reaper weary
Listening whispers, ' 'Tis the fairy,
Lady of Shalott.'
The little isle is all inrail'd
With a rose-fence, and overtrail'd
With roses: by the marge unhail'd
The shallop flitteth silken sail'd,
Skimming down to Camelot.
A pearl garland winds her head:
She leaneth on a velvet bed,
Full royally apparelled,
The Lady of Shalott.
PART II
No time hath she to sport and play:
A charmed web she weaves alway.
A curse is on her, if she stay
Her weaving, either night or day,
To look down to Camelot.
She knows not what the curse may be;
Therefore she weaveth steadily,
Therefore no other care hath she,
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poem by Alfred Lord Tennyson
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