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William Blake - The Sick Rose (from Songs of Experience)
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.
~*~
Yes, I know, this poem has been done to death. It's been ripped off, quoted and used as inspiration for terrible and fantastic art thousands of times. HOWEVER. The first time you read it, or in my case, hear it, it is captivating. For me, its significance doubled because it heralded both my introduction to William Blake and to Coil, the industrial band, who used it in the song linked below. When I went to look up the lyrics, I discovered their origins. It kicked off an involvement with a music scene that has persisted for nearly twenty years now along with an appreciation for Blake's poetry.
Coil - Love's Secret Domain
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.
Yes, I know, this poem has been done to death. It's been ripped off, quoted and used as inspiration for terrible and fantastic art thousands of times. HOWEVER. The first time you read it, or in my case, hear it, it is captivating. For me, its significance doubled because it heralded both my introduction to William Blake and to Coil, the industrial band, who used it in the song linked below. When I went to look up the lyrics, I discovered their origins. It kicked off an involvement with a music scene that has persisted for nearly twenty years now along with an appreciation for Blake's poetry.
Coil - Love's Secret Domain
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A Poison Tree
I was angry with my friend:
I told my wrath, my wrath did end.
I was angry with my foe:
I told it not, my wrath did grow.
And I watered it in fears,
Night and morning with my tears;
And I sunned it with smiles,
And with soft deceitful wiles.
And it grew both day and night,
Till it bore an apple bright.
And my foe beheld it shine.
And he knew that it was mine,
And into my garden stole
When the night had veiled the pole;
In the morning glad I see
My foe outstretched beneath the tree.
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