You do not seem to realize that beauty is a liability rather <br />than <br />an asset - that in view of the fact that spirit creates form <br />we are justified in supposing <br />that you must have brains. For you, a symbol of the <br />unit, stiff and sharp, <br />conscious of surpassing by dint of native superiority and <br />liking for everything <br />self-dependent, anything an <br /> <br />ambitious civilization might produce: for you, unaided, to <br />attempt through sheer <br />reserve, to confuse presumptions resulting from <br />observation, is idle. You cannot make us <br />think you a delightful happen-so. But rose, if you are <br />brilliant, it <br />is not because your petals are the without-which-nothing <br />of pre-eminence. Would you not, minus <br />thorns, be a what-is-this, a mere <br />perculiarity? They are not proof against a worm, the <br />elements, or mildew; <br />but what about the predatory hand? What is brilliance <br />without co-ordination? Guarding the <br />infinitesimal pieces of your mind, compelling audience to <br />the remark that it is better to be forgotten than to be re- <br />membered too violently, <br />your thorns are the best part of you.<br /><br />Marianne Moore<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/roses-only/
