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This poem by Eric Linklater can mean many different things. It depends upon how you read it. Go ahead, read it a few times. It also changes with your mood. I love this poem!!!
Beauty's rose, a shining sword, a thief;
�Beauty's a singing flute, the narrow flame
That lights the incense-smoke of all belief.
�Beauty was You, and You were Beauty's name
When I was young: rose, thief, and cutting sword,
�The flute, the flame - I lost my peace to this,
Reached up for that, bled here, and there adored,
�Nor, thus bewildered, thought my state amiss.
Youth gives his heart away, for youth's ill fortune
�Is often to have nothing else to give:
Where others bargain, he must still importune-
�You laughed, and found a fuller life to live.
You were not rich because of me, it's true,
�But I was bankrupt quite because of you.