11 March 2011

Rose, Thou Are Well

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.

I took a slightly different route to work today.  Along the way, I found this:

Does this mean the rose's (with an unnecessary apostrophe) have gotten well?