The Rose And The Thorn

The love god forbids man to see,
Some men that may be?
A budding rose or growing thorn,
Both on the same plant born.

The bud changes into a flower,
The thorn pokes nature’s lover,
And yet the rose is covered,
By that protective thorn.

When the rose falls asleep,
That prominent thorn doth it keep,
From predators, come what may,
It slumbers not night and day.

And yet when it comes to love,
The thorn is left below and the rose is taken above


A SONNET BY Vorion_hunter@1999