A sword is different from a rose,
And yet they are the same --
For every proper swordsman knows
That neither one is tame.
A rose may grow by golden towers,
Be trained along a wall;
But roses too have will and power,
They're living as us all.
So swords, as well, are sharp and free,
Hard, shining as a gem.
We clasp their handles helplessly . . .
Yet think we master them.
© Copyright 2016 ScottishHarper. All rights reserved.
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