Hurricane Jeanne blew into town on Sunday and knocked out our power until today (Tuesday). So please pardon the gap in my posts.
The chief difference between a hurricane and a bad rain storm, IMO, is the wind. Hurricanes howl. They blow in hard. It's somewhat shocking.
It made me think of this poem. It's one of my favorites by William Blake. I admire its economy. And despite its 1794 publication date, I think it sounds quite modern. It's from "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.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment