The Sick Rose
William Blake
ORoce thou art sick,
The invisible Worm
That flies in the night ,
In the howling storm,
Has found out thy bed
Of crimson joy;
And his dark secret Iove
Does thy life destroy.
The Sick Rose
William Blake
ORoce thou art sick,
The invisible Worm
That flies in the night ,
In the howling storm,
Has found out thy bed
Of crimson joy;
And his dark secret Iove
Does thy life destroy.