The Riddle of the Sword

Name that very keen contender Which draws luster just like water From a stone, But which, unlike Alexander, Does not owe it to a Khizr As a boon,

And which, like a tear washed vision, Purified by that ablution, Is agleam, Neat and clean and clear and limpid, With its raiment quite unwetted In midstream.

Its theme needs no longer statement Than a single line, if trenchant.