Explore "Love, a Sword" by Samuel Taylor Coleridge on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Though veiled in spires of myrtle-wreath, / Love is a sword which cuts its sheath, / And through the clefts itself has made, / We spy the flashes of the blade!
But through the clefts itself has made, / We likewise see Love's flashing blade / By rust consumed, or snapt in twain: / And only hilt and stump remain.