The sick rose… I marvel at William Blake’s ability to take a thing of beauty (a rose) that symbolizes another thing of beauty (a woman) and transform it into something dark (a harlot). “The Sick Rose” is I think my favorite Blake poem, and it comes from the Experience half of The Songs of Innocence and of Experience.
I’m sick. Not like the rose is sick in the poem; I’m actually ill and in need of hot tea and chicken soup. Sometimes when I get ill, I get a little silly, too, and since I’ve only been active for about 45 minutes today, I figured I would share some romantic poetry with you. Romantic referring to the romanticism movement, not lovey dovey.
When you get sick, what medicines or family remedies help you feel better? (I’ll try just about anything to be better within the next two hours)