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For works with similar titles, see The Sick Rose.
Notebook 31 - The sick rose

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;
[O, dark secret love
Doth life destroy. del.]
And [his del.] her dark secret love
Does thy life destroy.

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