I love all of the above. Roger, I thought I owned "Fire and Ice". Do we all feel like that about some of these essence poems?
I know I'm not alone in loving William Blake's:
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.
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