Author William Blake I feard the [roughness] fury of my wind Would blight all blossoms fair & true And my sun it shind & shind And my wind it never blew But a blossom fair or true Was not found on any tree For all blossoms grew & grew Fruitless false tho fair to see Rate this poem Select ratingGive it 1/5Give it 2/5Give it 3/5Give it 4/5Give it 5/5 No votes yet Rate Log in or register to post comments