11 `Doth a rush wise without mire? A reed increase without water?
12 While it [is] in its budding -- uncropt, Even before any herb it withereth.
13 So [are] the paths of all forgetting God, And the hope of the profane doth perish,
14 Whose confidence is loathsome, And the house of a spider his trust.
15 He leaneth on his house -- and it standeth not: He taketh hold on it -- and it abideth not.
16 Green he [is] before the sun, And over his garden his branch goeth out.
17 By a heap his roots are wrapped, A house of stones he looketh for.
