From rosy bowers we issue forth,
From east to west, from south to north;
Yes, more old riddles. Figured they'd be less well known.
Unseen, unfelt, by night, by day,
Abroad we take our airy way;
We foster love and kindle strife,
The bitter and the sweet of life;
Piercing and and sharp, we wound like steel--
Now, smooth as oil, those wounds we heal;
Not strings of pearl are valued more,
Or gems encased in golden ore;
Yet thousands of us every day,
Worthless and vile, are thrown away .
Ye wise, secure with bars of brass
The double doors through which we pass;
For, once escaped, back to our cell
No human art can us compel.
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