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    The Poetry of William Blake
    The Poetry of William Blake
    The Poetry of William Blake
    Ebook109 pages1 hour

    The Poetry of William Blake

    By William Blake

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    Compiled in one book, the essential collection of poetry by William Blake

    Table Of Contents
    Auguries Of Innocence
    Samson
    The Everlasting Gospel
    The Marriage Of Heaven And Hell
    The Song Of Los
    Thel
    Songs of Innocence
    Songs of Experience
    LanguageEnglish
    PublishereBookIt.com
    Release dateApr 26, 2016
    ISBN9781456613976
    Author

    William Blake

    William Blake was born in London in 1757. He was apprenticed to a master engraver and then studied at the Royal Academy under the guidance of Joshua Reynolds. In 1789 he engraved and published Songs of Innocence and the contrasting Songs of Experience came later in 1794. A poet, painter and printmaker of great originality and imagination, his work was largely unrecognized during his lifetime and he struggled to make a living. Blake is now considered a seminal figure in the history of both the poetry and visual arts of the Romantic Age. He died in 1827.

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      Book preview

      The Poetry of William Blake - William Blake

      The Poetry of William Blake

      Table Of Contents

      Auguries Of Innocence

      Samson

      The Everlasting Gospel

      The Marriage Of Heaven And Hell

      The Song Of Los

      Thel

      Songs of Innocence

      Songs of Experience

      Auguries Of Innocence

      By William Blake

          To see a World in a Grain of Sand

          And a Heaven in a Wild Flower,

          Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand

          And Eternity in an hour.

          A Robin Red breast in a Cage

          Puts all Heaven in a Rage.

          A dove house fill'd with doves & Pigeons

          Shudders Hell thro' all its regions.

          A dog starv'd at his Master's Gate

          Predicts the ruin of the State.

          A Horse misus'd upon the Road

          Calls to Heaven for Human blood.

          Each outcry of the hunted Hare

          A fibre from the Brain does tear.

          A Skylark wounded in the wing,

          A Cherubim does cease to sing.

          The Game Cock clipp'd and arm'd for fight

          Does the Rising Sun affright.

          Every Wolf's & Lion's howl

          Raises from Hell a Human Soul.

          The wild deer, wand'ring here & there,

          Keeps the Human Soul from Care.

          The Lamb misus'd breeds public strife

          And yet forgives the Butcher's Knife.

          The Bat that flits at close of Eve

          Has left the Brain that won't believe.

          The Owl that calls upon the Night

          Speaks the Unbeliever's fright.

          He who shall hurt the little Wren

          Shall never be belov'd by Men.

          He who the Ox to wrath has mov'd

          Shall never be by Woman lov'd.

          The wanton Boy that kills the Fly

          Shall feel the Spider's enmity.

          He who torments the Chafer's sprite

          Weaves a Bower in endless Night.

          The Catterpillar on the Leaf

          Repeats to thee thy Mother's grief.

          Kill not the Moth nor Butterfly,

          For the Last Judgement draweth nigh.

          He who shall train the Horse to War

          Shall never pass the Polar Bar.

          The Beggar's Dog & Widow's Cat,

          Feed them & thou wilt grow fat.

          The Gnat that sings his Summer's song

          Poison gets from Slander's tongue.

          The poison of the Snake & Newt

          Is the sweat of Envy's Foot.

          The poison of the Honey Bee

          Is the Artist's Jealousy.

          The Prince's Robes & Beggars' Rags

          Are Toadstools on the Miser's Bags.

          A truth that's told with bad intent

          Beats all the Lies you can invent.

          It is right it should be so;

          Man was made for Joy & Woe;

          And when this we rightly know

          Thro' the World we safely go.

          Joy & Woe are woven fine,

          A Clothing for the Soul divine;

          Under every grief & pine

          Runs a joy with silken twine.

          The Babe is more than swadling Bands;

          Throughout all these Human Lands

          Tools were made, & born were hands,

          Every Farmer Understands.

          Every Tear from Every Eye

          Becomes a Babe in Eternity.

          This is caught by Females bright

          And return'd to its own delight.

          The Bleat, the Bark, Bellow & Roar

          Are Waves that Beat on Heaven's Shore.

          The Babe that weeps the Rod beneath

          Writes Revenge in realms of death.

          The Beggar's Rags, fluttering in Air,

          Does to Rags the Heavens tear.

          The Soldier arm'd with Sword & Gun,

          Palsied strikes the Summer's Sun.

          The poor Man's Farthing is worth more

          Than all the Gold on Afric's Shore.

          One Mite wrung from the Labrer's hands

          Shall buy & sell the Miser's lands:

          Or, if protected from on high,

          Does that whole Nation sell & buy.

          He who mocks the Infant's Faith

          Shall be mock'd in Age & Death.

          He who shall teach the Child to Doubt

          The rotting Grave shall ne'er get out.

          He who respects the Infant's faith

          Triumph's over Hell & Death.

          The Child's Toys & the Old Man's Reasons

          Are the Fruits of the Two seasons.

          The Questioner, who sits so sly,

          Shall never know how to Reply.

          He who replies to words of Doubt

          Doth put the Light of Knowledge out.

          The Strongest Poison ever known

          Came from Caesar's Laurel Crown.

          Nought can deform the Human Race

          Like the Armour's iron brace.

          When Gold & Gems adorn the Plow

          To peaceful Arts shall Envy Bow.

          A Riddle or the Cricket's Cry

          Is to Doubt a fit Reply.

          The Emmet's Inch & Eagle's Mile

          Make Lame Philosophy to smile.

          He who Doubts from what he sees

          Will ne'er believe, do what you Please.

          If the Sun & Moon should doubt

          They'd immediately Go out.

          To be in a Passion you Good may do,

          But no Good if a Passion is in you.

          The Whore & Gambler, by the State

          Licenc'd, build that Nation's Fate.

          The Harlot's cry from Street to Street

          Shall weave Old England's winding Sheet.

          The Winner's Shout, the Loser's Curse,

          Dance before dead England's Hearse.

          Every Night & every Morn

          Some to Misery are Born.

          Every Morn & every Night

          Some are Born

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