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. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...FRANCIS II, KING OF NAPLES; SONNET by AMY LOWELL THE FRUIT GARDEN PATH by AMY LOWELL THE RING AND THE CASTLE by AMY LOWELL VERY EARLY SPRING by KATHERINE MANSFIELD SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: JONAS KEENE by EDGAR LEE MASTERS SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: RICHARD BONE by EDGAR LEE MASTERS |