The Sick Rose

We're going to start out like we always do with our Poets Respond poets.

We've got a wonderful poem here, a great extended metaphor, which we always love, and a poem that's sort of commiserating about the political scene, which we also tend to love as well.

And it's a familiar face.

Casey Goodall is here.

Yeah, it's great to see you.

Thanks for being here, Casey.

So tell us, what inspired you to write this poem this week? I mean, there's so many options, I guess.

You know, I was thinking about how I got to this in my mind, and I was thinking back that my mind got prompted about this with the persona poem prompt at the beginning of the month, and the narrator that I wrote for that poem is really the same, or the character is exactly the same for that poem as it is for this poem.

End of chapter eight.

Chapter nine, 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.

End of chapter nine.

Your spring and your day are wasted in play, and your winter and night in disguise.

End of chapter 8 Chapter 9 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 and of chapter nine chapter x the fly little fly thy summer's play my thoughtless hand has brushed away Am not I a fly like thee, or art not thou a man like me? For I dance and drink and sing, till some blind hand shall brush my wing.

If thought is life, and strength and breadth, and the want of thought is death, then am I a happy fly, if I live, or if I die.

what can it mean and that i was a maiden queen guarded by an angel mild witless woe was ne'er beguiled and i wept both night and day and he wiped my tears away and i wept both day and night and hid from him my heart's delight so he took his wings and fled Then the morn blushed rosy red.

Songs of Innocence and Experience by William Blake.

Songs of Experience: 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.

The Sick Rose by William Blake.

This is a LibriVox recording.

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Your spring and your day are wasted in play, and your winter and night in disguise.

End of chapter 8 Chapter 9 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 and of chapter nine chapter x the fly little fly thy summer's play my thoughtless hand has brushed away Am not I a fly like thee, or art not thou a man like me? For I dance and drink and sing, till some blind hand shall brush my wing.

If thought is life, and strength and breadth, and the want of thought is death, then am I a happy fly, if I live, or if I die.

End of chapter 10 Chapter 11 THE ANGEL i dreamt a dream what can it mean and that i was a maiden queen guarded by an angel mild witless woe was ne'er beguiled and i wept both night and day and he wiped my tears away and i wept both day and night and hid from him my heart's delight so he took his wings and fled Then the morn blushed rosy red.

End of chapter 6 Chapter 7 The Chimney Sweeper a little black thing in the snow crying weep weep and notes of woe where are thy father and mother say they are both gone up to the church to pray because i was happy upon the heath and smiled among the winter's snow they clothed me in the clothes of death and taught me to sing the notes of woe AND BECAUSE I AM HAPPY AND DANCE AND SING, THEY THINK THEY HAVE DONE ME NO INJURY, AND ARE GONE TO PRAISE GOD AND HIS PRIEST AND KING WHO MAKE UP A HEAVEN OF OUR MISERY.

END OF CHAPTER 7 CHAPTER 8 NURSE'S SONG WHEN VOICES OF CHILDREN ARE HEARD ON THE GREEN, AND WHISPERINGS ARE IN THE DALE, THE DAYS OF MY YOUTH RISE FRESH IN MY MIND, MY FACE TURNS GREEN, pale then come home my children the sun is gone down and the dews of night arise your spring and your day are wasted in play and your winter and night in disguise and of chapter eight chapter nine 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 and of chapter nine chapter x the fly little fly thy summer's play my thoughtless hand has brushed away Am not I a fly like thee, or art not thou a man like me? For I dance and drink and sing, till some blind hand shall brush my wing.

If thought is life, and strength and breadth, and the want of thought is death, then am I a happy fly, if I live, or if I die.

I DREAMT A DREAM What can it mean? And that I was a maiden queen, guarded by an angel mild, witless woe was ne'er beguiled.

where are

thy father and mother say they are both gone up to the church to pray because i was happy upon the heath and smiled among the winter's snow they clothed me in the clothes of death and taught me to sing the notes of woe and because i am happy and dance and sing they think they have done me no injury and are gone to praise god and his priest and king who made up a heaven of our misery nurse's song when the voices of children are heard on the green and whisperings are in the dale the days of my youth rise fresh in my mind my face turns green and pale then come home my children the sun is gone down and the dews of night arise your spring and your day are wasted in play and your winter and night in disguise 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 The Fly Little fly, thy summer's play My thoughtless hand has brushed away.

Am not I a fly like thee? Or art not thou a man like me? For I dance and drink and sing Till some blind hand shall brush my wing.

If thought is life and strength and breath, And the want of thought is death, then am i a happy fly if i live