I know the face of Falsehood and her Tongue <br />Honeyed with unction, Plausible with guile, <br />Are dear to men, whom count me not among, <br />That owe their daily credit to her smile; <br />Such have been succoured out of great distress <br />By her contriving, if accounts be true: <br />Their deference now above the board, I guess, <br />Dishcharges what beneath the board is due. <br />As for myself, I'd liefer lack her aid <br />Than eat her presence; let this building fall: <br />But let me never lift my latch, afraid <br />To hear her simpering accents in the hall, <br />Nor force an entrance past mephitic airs <br />Of stale patchoulie hanging on my stairs.<br /><br />Edna St. Vincent Millay<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/i-know-the-face-of-falsehood-and-her-tongue/
