Oh 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 with his dark secret love,
does thy life destroy.
(William Blake)
I took this photograph on my early-morning walk today... poetry among the jonquils.
5 comments:
I always have time for a) poetry b) flowers and c) spur-of-the-moment photography.
Nice poem and a special find on a morning walk. Have a great week :)
What a beautiful way to enjoy poetry - a great way to gently remind not to take nature's beauty away from her.
Do you know the wonderfully scary setting of The Sick Rose from Benjamin Britten’s Serenade? Chilling.
DM, it was an honour just to be nominated! ;)
B and CC - thank you! I'll be visiting your blogs straightway. :)
RAD: No, I don't - can you tell us more?
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