Roses Only
You do not seem to realize that beauty is a liability
rather than
An asset—that in view of the fact that spirit
creates form—we are justified in supposing
That you must have brains. For you, a symbol
of the unit, stiff and sharp,
Conscious of surpassing—by dint of native superiority and
liking for everything
Self—dependent, anything an
Ambitious civilization might produce: for you,
unaided, to attempt through sheer
Reserve, to confuse presumptions resulting from
observation, is idle. You cannot make us
Think you a delightful happen—so. But rose, if
you are brilliant, it
Is not because your petals are the without—which—nothing
of pre—eminence. Would you not, minus
Thorns, be a what—is—this, a mere
Peculiarity. They are not proof against a worm, the
elements, or mildew
But what about the predatory hand? What is brilliance
without co—ordination? Guarding the
Infinitesimal pieces of your mind, compelling
audience to
The remark that it is better to be forgotten than to
be remembered too violently,
Your thorns are the best part of you.
