The Thorn (poem)

Prompt here

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The thorn is sharp

‘Neath gleaming blossom

Bright in the lamp

Of Springtime’s sun

The guard before the

Gate to pleasure

Its prick as fierce

As edge of sword

The words that bite

The eyes that cut

All you see

Is love beneath

But should you want

My heart as yours

Respect the thorn

With which I greet