The sick roseEdgar Martin DealeO Rose, thou art sick!The invisible wormThat flies in the night,In the howling storm,Has found out thy bedOf crimson joy:And his dark secret loveDoes thy life destroy.
← LibraryEdgar Martin Deale · songThe sick roseThe sick rose by Edgar Martin Deale with libretto, IPA, translation, and study tools.Audio diction — free with sign-inTTS in 14 languages, loop passages, slow down lines.Sign in with GoogleSongThe sick roseEdgar Martin DealeOˈəʊRoseɹəʊz,thouðaʊartˈɑːtsicksˈɪk!TheðəinvisibleɪnvˈɪzəbəlwormwˈɜːmThatðˈætfliesflˈaɪzinˈɪntheðənightnˈaɪt,Inˈɪntheðəhowlinghˈaʊlɪŋstormstˈɔːm,HashˈæzfoundfˈaʊndoutˈaʊtthyðˈaɪbedbˈɛdOfˈɒvcrimsonkɹˈɪmsənjoydʒˈɔɪ:Andˈændhishˈɪzdarkdˈɑːksecretˈsiː.kɹɪtlovelˈʌvDoesdəzthyðˈaɪlifelˈaɪfdestroydɪstɹˈɔɪ.