Tuesday, 19 February 2008

william blake

The Sick Rose

O Rose, 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 love
Does thy life destroy.


Anonymous said...
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Anonymous said...

can you please erase that comment. lol one of those 'first thing in the morning i am sick of the morning' moments.