This Rose outlasted the one who gave it to me.
~×~×~
The Sick Rose
By William Blake
O rose, thou art sick!
The invisible worm
That flies in the night,
In the howling storm,
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.
Of crimson joy:
And his dark secret love
Does thy life destroy.
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One may have a blazing hearth in one's soul and yet no one ever come to sit by it. Passers-by see only a wisp of smoke from the chimney and continue on the way. ~Vincent Van Gogh~ Pull up a chair...
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