Classic Poem

We found ready to our hands in the beginning
A trowel and a knife:
I have kept them both.
You throw away the knife, and call the throwing,
Courage;
I flinch, but I use it,
And call the using, Choice.
I think I was given so terrible a tool
Because it was needed.

One can tell the difference by looking at our gardens.
God knows which is the better:
For the passer-by I suppose it's a matter of taste.