Poems by William Blake

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Sleep, sleep, beauty bright,
Sweet dreams, form a shade
Cruelty has a human heart,
Once a dream did weave a shade
"Nought loves another as itself,
Children of the future age,
I was angry with my friend:
Sweet dreams, form a shade
The Eternal Female groand! it was heard over all the Earth:
Prepare, prepare the iron helm of war,
Ah Sunflower, weary of time,
Golden Apollo, that thro' heaven wide
And did those feet in ancient time
To see a World in a Grain of Sand
When silver snow decks Susan's clothes,
My Spectre around me night and day
But in the Wine-presses the human grapes sing not nor dance:
The Sun arises in the East,
To Mercy, Pity, Peace, and Love,
Earth raised up her head
England! awake! awake! awake!
He who binds to himself a joy
The bell struck one, and shook the silent tower;
And did those feet in ancient time
Come, kings, and listen to my song:
Hear the voice of the Bard !
'Twas on a Holy Thursday, their innocent faces clean,
Is this a holy thing to see
How sweet I roam'd from field to field,
I heard an Angel singing
I rose up at the dawn of day
I saw a chapel all of gold
I see the Four-fold Man, The Humanity in deadly sleep
If it is true, what the Prophets write,
"I have no name;
My mother groaned, my father wept:
Hear the voice of the Bard,
Piping down the valleys wild,
And did those feet in ancient time
I see the Four-fold Man, The Humanity in deadly sleep
When the green woods laugh with the voice of joy,
I wandered through each chartered street,
Love and harmony combine,
Never seek to tell thy love,
The wild winds weep
And did those feet in ancient time
Mock on, mock on, Voltaire, Rousseau;
A flower was offered to me,
My spectre around me night and day
i
Never seek to tell thy love
The sun descending in the west,
`Now Art has lost its mental charms
When the voices of children are heard on the green,
When voices of children are heard on the green,
Can I see another's woe,
Piping down the valleys wild,
The shadowy Daughter of Urthona stood before red Orc,
The nameless shadowy female rose from out the breast of Orc,
In seed time learn, in harvest teach, in winter enjoy.
Piping down the valleys wild,
Samson, the strongest of the children of men,
What is it men in women do require?
Silent, silent night,
Sleep! sleep! beauty bright,
My silks and fine array,
Memory, hither come,
Sound the flute!
I dreamt a dream! What can it mean?
The Angel that presided o'er my birth
He. Where thou dwellest, in what grove,
Merry, merry sparrow!
Chapter 1
Lo, a shadow of horror is risen
I
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Of the primeval Priests assum'd power,
The Caverns of the Grave I've seen,
A little black thing in the snow,
When my mother died I was very young,
When my mother died I was very young,
A little black thing among the snow:
"Love seeketh not itself to please,
The Maiden caught me in the wild,
To Mercy, Pity, Peace, and Love,
The sun does arise,
The vision of Christ that thou dost see
Little Fly,
1.1 "What is the price of Experience? do men buy it for a song?
84 Thee the ancientest peer, Duke of Burgundy, rose from the monarch's right hand, red as wines
I laid me down upon a bank,
"I die, I die!" the Mother said,
Pity would be no more
Little Lamb, who made thee
Awake, awake, my little boy!
The modest Rose puts forth a thorn,
My mother bore me in the southern wild,
The little boy lost in the lonely fen,
"Father, father, where are you going?
All the night in woe
In futurity
Dear mother, dear mother, the Church is cold;
The Argument.
And did those feet in ancient time
What is it men in women do require?
I love to rise on a summer morn,
How sweet is the Shepherd's sweet lot!
O rose, thou art sick!
The sky is an immortal tent built by the Sons of Los:
Africa
Tiger, tiger, burning bright
I heard an Angel Singing
Tyger, tyger, burning bright
Youth of delight! come hither
As I wandered the forest,
I
Does the Eagle know what is in the pit?
A Robin Redbreast in a cage,
O Autumn, laden with fruit, and stainèd
O holy virgin! clad in purest white,
O thou with dewy locks, who lookest down
O thou who passest thro' our valleys in
Truly My Satan thou art but a Dunce
Thou fair-haired angel of the evening,
Whether on Ida's shady brow,
To my friend Butts I write
Whate'er is born of mortal birth
O Winter! bar thine adamantine doors:
When Klopstock England defied,
Why art thou silent and invisible
Why should I care for the men of thames
Why was Cupid a boy,
You don't believe -- I won't attempt to make ye:

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