I need a poem that is 20 lines and about fever 1793 and has some sort of figurative language and a theme from the book?

This is the disease of sweat and tears,

a road of pain it steers.

In and out like a roaring fire,

can you hear the church choir?

Lives hanging simply by a thread,

lying here, on a death bed.

You can feel yourself burn and ache,

No doctor will admit their mistake.

Loved ones are lost right and left,

Others left shaken by an untimely death.

Their hope was lost,

until a blessing came, frost.

Raging fevers went cool,

robbed the fire of its fuel.