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. (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.

William Blake

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art bed crimson dark found flies howling invisible joy life love night rose secret sick storm thou worm

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