Selected Poems by William Blake

I. From Songs of Innocence (1789)

The Ecchoing Green
The Sun does arise, And make happy the skies. The merry bells ring To welcome the Spring. The sky-lark and thrush, The birds of the bush, Sing louder around, To the bells chearful sound, While our sports shall be seen On the Ecchoing Green. Old John with white hair Does laugh away care, Sitting under the oak, Among the old folk, They laugh at our play, And soon they all say, Such such were the joys. When we all girls & boys, In our youth-time were seen On the Ecchoing Green. Till the little ones weary No more can be merry, The sun does descend, And our sports have an end; Round the laps of their mothers, Many sisters and brothers, Like birds in their nest, Are ready for rest; And sport no more seen, On the darkening Green.

The Lamb
Little Lamb who made thee Dost thou know who made thee Gave thee life & bid thee feed By the stream & oer the mead; Gave thee clothing of delight, Softest clothing wooly bright; Gave thee such a tender voice, Making all the vales rejoice! Little Lamb who made thee Dost thou know who made thee Little Lamb Ill tell thee, Little Lamb Ill tell thee! He is calld by thy name, For he calls himself a Lamb: He is meek & he is mild, He became a little child: I a child & thou a lamb, We are calld by his name. Little Lamb God bless thee. Little Lamb God bless thee.

[mead: meadow]

The Blossom
Merry Merry Sparrow Under leaves so green A happy Blossom Sees you swift as arrow Seek your cradle narrow Near my Bosom. Pretty Pretty Robin Under leaves so green A happy Blossom Hears you sobbing sobbing Pretty Pretty Robin Near my Bosom.

The Chimney Sweeper

When my mother died I was very young, And my father sold me while yet my tongue Could scarcely cry weep weep weep weep. So your chimneys I sweep & in soot I sleep. Theres little Tom Dacre, who cried when his head That curld like a lambs back, was shavd, so I said, Hush Tom never mind it, for when your heads bare, You know that the soot cannot spoil your white hair. And so he was quiet, & that very night, As Tom was a sleeping he had such a sight, That thousands of sweepers Dick, Joe, Ned & Jack Were all of them lockd up in coffins of black, And by came an Angel who had a bright key, And he opend the coffins & set them all free. Then down a green plain leaping laughing they run And wash in a river and shine in the Sun. Then naked & white, all their bags left behind,1 They rise upon clouds, and sport in the wind. And the Angel told Tom if hed be a good boy, Hed have God for his father & never want joy. And so Tom awoke and we rose in the dark And got with our bags & our brushes to work. Tho the morning was cold, Tom was happy & warm, So if all do their duty, they need not fear harm.

[white: i.e., blond]

Chimney sweeps (always small children, so as to be able to squeeze into narrow London chimneys) carried the soot away in bags.

The Divine Image

To Mercy Pity Peace and Love, All pray in their distress: And to these virtues of delight Return their thankfulness. For Mercy Pity Peace and Love, Is God our father dear: And Mercy Pity Peace and Love, Is Man his child and care. For Mercy has a human heart Pity, a human face: And Love, the human form divine, And Peace, the human dress. Then every man of every clime, That prays in his distress, Prays to the human form divine2 Love Mercy Pity Peace. And all must love the human form, In heathen, turk or jew. Where Mercy, Love & Pity dwell, There God is dwelling too.

In the invocation to Book III of Paradise Lost, Milton laments his blindness: Thus with the year Seasons return, but not to me returns Day, or the sweet approach of evn or morn, Or sight of vernal bloom, or summers rose, Or flocks, or herds, or human face divine.

II. From Songs of Experience (1794)

The Clod & the Pebble

Love seeketh not Itself to please, Nor for itself hath any care; But for another gives its ease, And builds a Heaven in Hells despair. So sang a little Clod of Clay, Trodden with the cattles feet: But a Pebble of the brook Warbled out these metres meet. Love seeketh only Self to please, To bind another to Its delight: \ Joys in anothers loss of ease, And builds a Hell in Heavens despite.

The Chimney Sweeper

A little black thing among the snow: Crying weep, weep, in notes of woe! Where are thy father & mother? say? They are both gone up to the church to pray. Because I was happy upon the heath, And smild among the winters snow: They clothed me in the clothes of death, And taught me to sing the notes of woe. And because I am happy, & dance & sing, They think they have done me no injury: And are gone to praise God & his Priest & King Who make up a heaven of our misery.

Nurses Song
When the voices of children are heard on the green And whisprings are in the dale: The days of my youth rise fresh in my mind, My face turns green and pale. Then come home my children, the sun is gone down And the dews of night arise Your spring & your day, are wasted in play, And your winter and night in disguise.

The Sick Rose

O Rose thou art sick. The invisible worm, That flies in the night In the howling storm: Has found out thy bed Of crimson joy, And his dark secret love Does thy life destroy.

Ah Sun-Flower
Ah Sun-flower! weary of time, Who countest the steps of the Sun: Seeking after that sweet golden clime Where the travellers journey is done. Where the Youth pined away with desire, And the pale Virgin shrouded in snow: Arise from their graves and aspire, Where my Sun-flower wishes to go.

Infant Sorrow
My mother groand! my father wept. Into the dangerous world I leapt: Helpless, naked, piping loud; Like a fiend hid in a cloud. Struggling in my fathers hands, Striving against my swadling bands: Bound and weary I thought best To sulk upon my mothers breast.

The Garden of Love

I went to the Garden of Love, And saw what I never had seen: A Chapel was built in the midst, Where I used to play on the green. And the gates of this Chapel were shut, And Thou shalt not, writ over the door; So I turnd to the Garden of Love, That so many sweet flowers bore. And I saw it was filled with graves, And tomb-stones where flowers should be: And Priests in black gowns, were walking their rounds, And binding with briars, my joys & desires.

The Human Abstract

Pity would be no more, If we did not make somebody Poor: And Mercy no more could be, If all were as happy as we; And mutual fear brings peace; Till the selfish loves increase. Then Cruelty knits a snare, And spreads his baits with care. He sits down with holy fears, And waters the ground with tears: Then Humility takes its root Underneath his foot. Soon spreads the dismal shade Of Mystery over his head; And the Catterpiller and Fly, Feed on the Mystery. And it bears the fruit of Deceit, Ruddy and sweet to eat; And the Raven his nest has made In its thickest shade. The Gods of the earth and sea Sought thro Nature to find this Tree But their search was all in vain: There grows one in the Human Brain.

Unpublished Poems from Blakes Notebooks

Mock on Mock on Voltaire Rousseau Mock on Mock on! tis all in vain! You throw the sand against the wind And the wind blows it back again And every sand becomes a Gem Reflected in the beams divine Blown back they blind the mocking Eye But still in Israels paths they shine The Atoms of Democritus And Newtons Particles of light Are sands upon the Red sea shore Where Israels tents do shine so bright * He who binds to himself a joy Does the wingd life destroy But he who kisses the joy as it flies Lives in eternitys sun rise * What is it men in women do require The lineaments of Gratified Desire What is it women do in men require The lineaments of Gratified Desire * In a wife I would desire What in whores is always found The lineaments of Gratified desire * * * * * * * * *

* I saw a chapel all of gold That none did dare to enter in And many weeping stood without Weeping mourning worshipping I saw a serpent rise between The white pillars of the door And he forcd & forcd & forcd Down the golden hinges tore And along the pavement sweet Set with pearls & rubies bright3 All his slimy length he drew Till upon the altar white Vomiting his poison out On the bread & on the wine So I turnd into a sty4 And laid me down among the swine

And the foundations of the wall of the city were garnished with all manner of precious stones. . . And the twelve gates were twelve pearls; every several gate was of one pearl: and the street of the city was pure gold, as it were transparent glass (Revelation 21: 19-21)

i.e., went into a pigsty

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Excerpts from Auguries of Innocence

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 filld with doves & Pigeons Shudders Hell thro all its regions A dog starvd at his Masters Gate Predicts the ruin of the State A Horse misusd upon the Road Calls to Heaven for Human blood The wanton Boy that kills the Fly Shall feel the Spiders enmity The Poison of the Honey Bee Is the Artists jealousy The Princes Robes & Beggars Rags Are Toadstools on the Misers Bags A Riddle or the Crickets Cry Is to Doubt a fit Reply The Emmets Inch & Eagles Mile Make Lame Philosophy to smile He who Doubts from what he sees Will neer Believe do what you Please If the Sun & Moon should Doubt Theyd immediately Go out Every Night & every Morn Some to Misery are Born Every Morn & every Night Some are Born to sweet delight Some are Born to sweet delight Some are Born to Endless Night

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Excerpts from a letter

Blake was responding to the Rev. Dr. Trusler, who had commissioned paintings on biblical subjects and was bewildered by the result (August 1799).

I really am sorry that you are falln out with the Spiritual World Especially if I should have to answer for it I feel very sorry that your Ideas & Mine on Moral Painting differ so much as to have made you angry with my method of Study. If I am wrong I am wrong in good company. I had hoped your plan comprehended All Species of this Art & Especially that you would not reject that Species which gives Existence to Every other. namely Visions of Eternity You say that I want somebody to Elucidate my Ideas. But you ought to know that What is Grand is necessarily obscure to Weak men. That which can be made Explicit to the Idiot is not worth my care. The wisest of the Ancients considerd what is not too Explicit as the fittest for Instruction because it rouzes the faculties to act. I name Moses Solomon Esop Homer Plato. * * * * *

I have therefore proved your Reasonings Ill proportiond which you can never prove my figures to be. They are those of Michael Angelo Rafael & the Antique & of the best living Models. I percieve that your Eye is perverted by Caricature Prints, which ought not to abound so much as they do. Fun I love but too much Fun is of all things the most loathsom. Mirth is better than Fun & Happiness is better than Mirth I feel that a Man may be happy in This World. And I know that This World Is a World of Imagination & Vision. I see Every thing I paint In This World, but Every body does not see alike. To the Eyes of a Miser a Guinea is more beautiful than the Sun & a bag worn with the use of Money has more beautiful proportions than a Vine filled with Grapes. The tree which moves some to tears of joy is in the Eyes of others only a Green thing that stands in the way. Some See Nature all Ridicule & Deformity & by these I shall not regulate my proportions, & Some Scarce see Nature at all. But to the Eyes of the Man of Imagination Nature is Imagination itself. As a man is So he Sees. As the Eye is formed such are its Powers. You certainly Mistake when you say that the Visions of Fancy are not be found in This World. To Me This World is all One continued Vision of Fancy or Imagination & I feel Flatterd when I am told So.

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