A thistle in a garden be a weedBut a garden of thistles be beautiful.
The comparison made through mind,
Only present when comparison allowed.
Therefore, comparison shall only reign true,
When ‘tis in form of species same,
And underlying beauty rises.
The name more important than what lies before you,
But what lies before you presents more beautiful,
Than gold found beneath.
For lies present more swiftly,
Nevertheless, they blind us greatly,
Deafen us deeply,
And mask the beauty we wish to compare.
Do not we believe that budding flower,
Present the unpleasant nature?
Yet we acknowledge the beauty that lies beneath,
That is yet to show,
That will appear from below.
Time plays in flowers favour,
Until time becomes the enemy that we fear most.
And if beneath beauty is portrayed,
What comparison can be made
Against those that wish it so.
A thistle in a garden full of roses,
Is as beautiful as a deer amongst the trees.
That doesn’t make it any less valuable,
If the buyer doth hold value deep within.