No voice divine the storm allayed No light propitious shone, When snatch'd from all effectual aid, We perished, each alone; But I, beneath a rougher sea, And whelm'd in deeper gulphs than he William Cowper, The Castaway (last stanza)O Rose thou art sick. That invisible worm, That flies in the night, In the howling storm: Has found out thy bed Of crimson joy: And hsi dark secret love Does thy life destroy William Blake, The Sick Rose Go home
Go home
