William Blake

Sleep, sleep, beauty bright, Dreaming in the joys of night; Sleep, sleep; in thy sleep

Sweet dreams, form a shade O'er my lovely infant's head! Sweet dreams of pleasant streams

Cruelty has a human heart, And Jealousy a human face; Terror the human form divine,

Once a dream did weave a shade O'er my angel-guarded bed, That an emmet lost its way

"Nought loves another as itself, Nor venerates another so, Nor is it possible to thought

Children of the future age, Reading this indignant page, Know that in a former time

I was angry with my friend: I told my wrath, my wrath did end. I was angry with my foe:

Sweet dreams, form a shade O'er my lovely infant's head! Sweet dreams of pleasant streams

The Eternal Female groand! it was heard over all the Earth: Albions coast is sick silent; the American meadows faint! Shadows of Prophecy shiver along by the lakes and the rivers and mutter across the ocean! France rend down thy dungeon;

Prepare, prepare the iron helm of war, Bring forth the lots, cast in the spacious orb; Th' Angel of Fate turns them with mighty hands,

Ah Sunflower, weary of time, Who countest the steps of the sun; Seeking after that sweet golden clime

Golden Apollo, that thro' heaven wide Scatter'st the rays of light, and truth's beams, In lucent words my darkling verses dight,

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

To see a World in a Grain of Sand And a Heaven in a Wild Flower, Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand

When silver snow decks Susan's clothes, And jewel hangs at th' shepherd's nose, The blushing bank is all my care,

My Spectre around me night and day Like a wild beast guards my way; My Emanation far within

But in the Wine-presses the human grapes sing not nor dance: They howl and writhe in shoals of torment, in fierce flames consuming, In chains of iron and in dungeons circled with ceaseless fires,

Why was Cupid a boy, And why a boy was he? He should have been a girl,

The Sun arises in the East, Cloth'd in robes of blood and gold; Swords and spears and wrath increast

To Mercy, Pity, Peace, and Love, All pray in their distress, And to these virtues of delight

Earth raised up her head From the darkness dread and drear, Her light fled,

England! awake! awake! awake! Jerusalem thy Sister calls! Why wilt thou sleep the sleep of death

He who binds to himself a joy Does the winged life destroy; But he who kisses the joy as it flies

The bell struck one, and shook the silent tower; The graves give up their dead: fair Elenor Walk'd by the castle gate, and look'd in.

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

Come, kings, and listen to my song: When Gwin, the son of Nore, Over the nations of the North

Hear the voice of the Bard ! Who present, past, and future sees; Whose ears have heard

'Twas on a Holy Thursday, their innocent faces clean, Came children walking two and two, in read, and blue, and green: Grey-headed beadles walked before, with wands as white as snow,

Is this a holy thing to see In a rich and fruitful land, Babes reduced to misery,

How sweet I roam'd from field to field, And tasted all the summer's pride 'Til the prince of love beheld

I heard an Angel singing When the day was springing, 'Mercy, Pity, Peace

I rose up at the dawn of day `Get thee away! get thee away! Pray'st thou for riches? Away! away!

I saw a chapel all of gold That none did dare to enter in, And many weeping stood without,

I see the Four-fold Man, The Humanity in deadly sleep And its fallen Emanation, the Spectre and its cruel Shadow. I see the Past, Present and Future existing all at once

If it is true, what the Prophets write, That the heathen gods are all stocks and stones, Shall we, for the sake of being polite,

"I have no name; I am but two days old." What shall I call thee?

My mother groaned, my father wept: Into the dangerous world I leapt, Helpless, naked, piping loud,

Hear the voice of the Bard, Who present, past, and future, sees; Whose ears have heard

Piping down the valleys wild, Piping songs of pleasant glee, On a cloud I saw a child,

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

I see the Four-fold Man, The Humanity in deadly sleep And its fallen Emanation, the Spectre and its cruel Shadow. I see the Past, Present and Future existing all at once

When the green woods laugh with the voice of joy, And the dimpling stream runs laughing by; When the air does laugh with our merry wit,

I wandered through each chartered street, Near where the chartered Thames does flow, A mark in every face I meet,

Love and harmony combine, And round our souls entwine While thy branches mix with mine,

Never seek to tell thy love, Love that never told can be; For the gentle wind does move

The wild winds weep And the night is a-cold; Come hither, Sleep,

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

Mock on, mock on, Voltaire, Rousseau; Mock on, mock on; 'tis all in vain! You throw the sand against the wind,

A flower was offered to me, Such a flower as May never bore; But I said "I've a pretty rose tree,"

My spectre around me night and day Like a wild beast guards my way. My emanation far within

i My spectre around me night and day Like a wild beast guards my way;

Never seek to tell thy love Love that never told can be; For the gentle wind does move

The sun descending in the west, The evening star does shine; The birds are silent in their nest,

`Now Art has lost its mental charms France shall subdue the world in arms.' So spoke an Angel at my birth;

When voices of children are heard on the green, And whisperings are in the dale, The days of my youth rise fresh in my mind,

When the voices of children are heard on the green, And laughing is heard on the hill, My heart is at rest within my breast,

Can I see another's woe, And not be in sorrow too? Can I see another's grief,

Piping down the valleys wild, Piping songs of pleasant glee, On a cloud I saw a child,

The shadowy Daughter of Urthona stood before red Orc, When fourteen suns had faintly journey'd o'er his dark abode: His food she brought in iron baskets, his drink in cups of iron:

The nameless shadowy female rose from out the breast of Orc, Her snaky hair brandishing in the winds of Enitharmon; And thus her voice arose:

In seed time learn, in harvest teach, in winter enjoy. Drive your cart and your plow over the bones of the dead. The road of excess leads to the palace of wisdom.

Piping down the valleys wild, Piping songs of pleasant glee, On a cloud I saw a child,

Samson, the strongest of the children of men, I sing; how he was foiled by woman's arts, by a false wife brought to the gates of death!

What is it men in women do require? The lineaments of Gratified Desire. What is it women do in men require?

Silent, silent night, Quench the holy light Of thy torches bright;

Sleep! sleep! beauty bright, Dreaming o'er the joys of night; Sleep! sleep! in thy sleep

My silks and fine array, My smiles and languish'd air, By love are driv'n away;

Memory, hither come, And tune your merry notes; And, while upon the wind

Sound the flute! Now it's mute! Bird's delight,

I dreamt a dream! What can it mean? And that I was a maiden Queen Guarded by an Angel mild:

The Angel that presided o'er my birth Said, "Little creature, form'd of Joy and Mirth, "Go love without the help of any Thing on Earth."

He. Where thou dwellest, in what grove, Tell me Fair One, tell me Love; Where thou thy charming nest dost build,

Merry, merry sparrow! Under leaves so green A happy blossom

Lo, a shadow of horror is risen In Eternity! Unknown, unprolific, Self-clos'd, all-repelling: what demon

Chapter 1 Lo, a shadow of horror is risen In Eternity! Unknown, unprolific,

I Lo, a shadow of horror is risen In Eternity! Unknown, unprolific!

I Earth was not: nor globes of attraction The will of the Immortal expanded

I The voice ended, they saw his pale visage Emerge from the darkness; his hand

I 1. Los smitten with astonishment

1. Then the Inhabitants of those Cities: Felt their Nerves change into Marrow

1. In terrors Los shrunk from his task: His great hammer fell from his hand:

1. But Los saw the Female & pitied He embrac'd her, she wept, she refus'd

1. They named the child Orc, he grew Fed with milk of Enitharmon

1. Urizen explor'd his dens Mountain, moor, & wilderness,

Of the primeval Priests assum'd power, When Eternals spurn'd back his religion; And gave him a place in the north,

The Caverns of the Grave I've seen, And these I show'd to England's Queen. But now the Caves of Hell I view,

A little black thing in the snow, Crying "weep! weep!" in notes of woe! "Where are thy father and mother? Say!"

When my mother died I was very young, And my father sold me while yet my tongue, Could scarcely cry weep weep weep weep,

When my mother died I was very young, And my father sold me while yet my tongue Could scarcely cry "Weep! weep! weep! weep!"

A little black thing among the snow: Crying weep, weep, in notes of woe! Where are thy father & mother? say?

"Love seeketh not itself to please, Nor for itself hath any care, But for another gives it ease,

The Maiden caught me in the wild, Where I was dancing merrily; She put me into her Cabinet,

To Mercy, Pity, Peace, and Love, All pray in their distress, And to these virtues of delight

The sun does arise, And make happy the skies; The merry bells ring

The vision of Christ that thou dost see Is my vision's greatest enemy. Thine has a great hook nose like thine;

Little Fly, Thy summer's play My thoughtless hand

1.1    "What is the price of Experience? do men buy it for a song? 1.2    Or wisdom for a dance in the street? No, it is bought with the price 1.3    Of all that a man hath, his house, his wife, his children.

84    Thee the ancientest peer, Duke of Burgundy, rose from the monarch's right hand, red as wines 85    From his mountains; an odor of war, like a ripe vineyard, rose from his garments, 86    And the chamber became as a clouded sky; o'er the council he stretch'd his red limbs,

I laid me down upon a bank, Where Love lay sleeping; I heard among the rushes dank

"I die, I die!" the Mother said, "My children die for lack of bread. What more has the merciless Tyrant said?"

Pity would be no more If we did not make somebody poor, And Mercy no more could be

Little Lamb, who made thee Dost thou know who made thee, Gave thee life, and bid thee feed

Awake, awake, my little boy! Thou wast thy mother's only joy; Why dost thou weep in thy gentle sleep?

The modest Rose puts forth a thorn, The humble sheep a threat'ning horn: While the Lily white shall in love delight,

My mother bore me in the southern wild, And I am black, but oh my soul is white! White as an angel is the English child,

The little boy lost in the lonely fen, Led by the wandering light, Began to cry, but God, ever nigh,

"Father, father, where are you going? Oh do not walk so fast! Speak, father, speak to your little boy,

All the night in woe Lyca's parents go Over valleys deep,

In futurity I prophetic see That the earth from sleep

Dear mother, dear mother, the Church is cold; But the Alehouse is healthy, and pleasant, and warm. Besides, I can tell where I am used well;

The Argument. Rintrah roars & shakes his fires in the burdend air; Hungry clouds swag on the deep

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

What is it men in women do require? The lineaments of gratified Desire. What is it women do in men require?

I love to rise on a summer morn, When birds are singing on every tree; The distant huntsman winds his horn,

How sweet is the Shepherd's sweet lot! From the morn to the evening he stays; He shall follow his sheep all the day,

O rose, thou art sick! The invisible worm, That flies in the night,

The sky is an immortal tent built by the Sons of Los: And every space that a man views around his dwelling-place Standing on his own roof or in his garden on a mount

Africa I will sing you a song of Los. the Eternal Prophet: He sung it to four harps at the tables of Eternity.

Tiger, tiger, burning bright In the forests of the night, What immortal hand or eye

I heard an Angel Singing When the day was springing: "Mercy, pity, and peace,

Tyger, tyger, burning bright In the forests of the night, What immortal hand or eye

Youth of delight! come hither And see the opening morn, Image of Truth new-born.

As I wandered the forest, The green leaves among, I heard a Wild Flower

I The daughters of Mne Seraphim led round their sunny flocks, All but the youngest: she in paleness sought the secret air.

Does the Eagle know what is in the pit? Or wilt thou go ask the Mole: Can Wisdom be put in a silver rod?

A Robin Redbreast in a cage, Puts all Heaven in a rage. A skylark wounded on the wing

O Autumn, laden with fruit, and stain'd With the blood of the grape, pass not, but sit Beneath my shady roof; there thou may'st rest,

O holy virgin! clad in purest white, Unlock heav'n's golden gates, and issue forth; Awake the dawn that sleeps in heaven; let light

O thou with dewy locks, who lookest down Thro' the clear windows of the morning, turn Thine angel eyes upon our western isle,

O thou who passest thro' our valleys in Thy strength, curb thy fierce steeds, allay the heat That flames from their large nostrils! thou, O Summer,

Truly My Satan thou art but a Dunce And dost not know the Garment from the Man Every Harlot was a Virgin once

Thou fair-haired angel of the evening, Now, whilst the sun rests on the mountains, light Thy bright torch of love; thy radiant crown

Whether on Ida's shady brow, Or in the chambers of the East, The chambers of the sun, that now

To my friend Butts I write My first vision of light, On the yellow sands sitting.

Whate'er is born of mortal birth Must be consumed with the earth, To rise from generation free:

O Winter! bar thine adamantine doors: The north is thine; there hast thou built thy dark Deep-founded habitation. Shake not thy roofs,

When Klopstock England defied, Uprose William Blake in his pride; For old Nobodaddy aloft

Why art thou silent and invisible Father of jealousy Why dost thou hide thyself in clouds

Why should I care for the men of thames Or the cheating waves of charter'd streams Or shrink at the little blasts of fear

Why was Cupid a boy, And why a boy was he? He should have been a girl,

You don't believe -- I won't attempt to make ye: You are asleep -- I won't attempt to wake ye. Sleep on! sleep on! while in your pleasant dreams