In quest of the Rose,
the hero ambles.
Brashly he goes,
entangled by brambles
more and more thick,
choking out light.
He feels a prick,
then onset of night.
He lies asleep
upon a bier.
The forest is deep.
Who will come here?
Max Reif
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/enchantment/
