The Sick Rose William Blake

I want to start the week with something from a dead white guy, a visionary who has influenced numerous poets over the last 200-plus years.

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.

-- William Blake

From Songs of Innocence, 1789