'Tween Hurried Slurs

The gallant sword...Did not have the solid strength...
Nor the crystal knowledge of the bounded truth...
'Tween the hurried slurs of innocence..
Thrust 'pon the bristled skirts of thorns...

Lost amid the lonely manner of standing....
Outside the closed gate..To eager breathlessness...
Wounded by the eyes that cry evil..
Whilst the gallant sword...Exits to his mark...