The Sick Rose
William Blake
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
The Downlow
- morgan loch
- austin, texas, United States
- aspiring writer, English and journalism student, hails from Texas. likes include writing, coffee, books, whisky and people.
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