Robert Graves on the Briar and the Bramble Rose
To me, both briar and bramble
arrive prior to the ample
flower called a rose. Prickly stems
that scratch the hands that planted them,
these bushy shrubs require a glove
just to manhandle them. What’s love
got to do with all those thorny
questions that now sound too corny
to bother to answer them. Rose
with all those pretty petals grows
out from a thousand cuts and scrapes,
makes me see red, blood red, that takes
me to another time and place,
tangled images of your face.