William blake infant joy infant sorrow

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William blake infant joy infant sorrow

AND did those feet in ancient time Walk upon England's mountains green? And was the holy Lamb of God On England's pleasant pastures seen?

And did the Countenance Divine Shine forth upon our clouded hills? And was Jerusalem builded here Among these dark Satanic mills?


Bring me my bow of burning gold: Bring me my arrows of desire: Bring me my spear: Bring me my chariot of fire. I will not cease from mental fight, Nor shall my sword sleep in my hand Till we have built Jerusalem In England's green and pleasant land.

A dog starv'd at his Master's Gate Predicts the ruin of the State. Each outcry of the hunted Hare A fibre from the Brain does tear.

William blake infant joy infant sorrow

A Skylark wounded in the wing, A Cherubim does cease to sing. 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.

William blake infant joy infant sorrow

The Catterpillar on the Leaf Repeats to thee thy Mother's grief. The Gnat that sings his Summer's song Poison gets from Slander's tongue. A truth that's told with bad intent Beats all the Lies you can invent. This is caught by Females bright And return'd to its own delight. The Babe that weeps the Rod beneath Writes Revenge in realms of death.

He who shall teach the Child to Doubt The rotting Grave shall ne'er get out.

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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. Nought can deform the Human Race Like the Armour's iron brace.

He who Doubts from what he sees Will ne'er believe, do what you Please. William Blake MY silks and fine array, My smiles and languished air, By love are driven away; And mournful lean Despair Brings me yew to deck my grave: Such end true lovers have.

His face is fair as heaven When springing buds unfold; O, why to him was't given Whose heart is wintry cold? His breast is love's all-worshipped tomb, Where all love's pilgrims come. Bring me an axe and spade, Bring me a winding-sheet; When I my grade have made, Let winds and tempest beat: Then down I'll lie, as cold as clay.

True love doth pass away! I heard a devil curse Over the heath and the furse: And mutual fear brings peace, Misery's increase Are mercy, pity, and peace. I told my love, I told my love, I told her all my heart, Trembling, cold, in ghastly fears, Ah!

Soon after she was gone from me A traveller came by, He took her with a sigh. William Blake THOU fair-haired Angel of the Evening, Now, whilst the sun rests on the mountains, light Thy bright torch of love--thy radiant crown Put on, and smile upon our evening bed!

Smile on our loves; and, while thou drawest the Blue curtains of the sky, scatter thy silver dew On every flower that shuts its sweet eyes In timely sleep.Wilkinson Genealogical Submissions and Requests Archive This page contains all posts to the Wilkinsons Genealogical Requests .

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