William Blake
Sleep! Sleep! Beauty Bright
Sleep! sleep! beauty bright, Dreaming o’er the joys of night; Sleep! sleep! in thy sleep Little sorrows sit and weep. Sweet Babe, in thy face Soft desires I can trace, Secret joys and secret
Broken Love
MY Spectre around me night and day Like a wild beast guards my way; My Emanation far within Weeps incessantly for my sin. ‘A fathomless and boundless deep, There we wander, there we weep;
Introduction to the Songs of Innocence
Piping down the valleys wild, Piping songs of pleasant glee, On a cloud I saw a child, And he laughing said to me: ‘Pipe a song about a Lamb!’ So I piped with merry
To the Evening Star
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
Preludium to Europe
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: ‘O mother Enitharmon, wilt thou bring forth other sons?
The Fly
Little Fly Thy summers play, My thoughtless hand Has brush’d away. Am not I A fly like thee? Or art not thou A man like me? For I dance And drink & sing; Till
Evening Star
Thou fair hair’d angel of the evening, Now, while 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
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
London
I wander thro’ each charter’d street. Near where the charter’d Thames does flow A mark in every face I meet Marks of weakness, marks of woe. In every cry of every Man. In every
The Grey Monk
“I die, I die!” the Mother said, “My children die for lack of bread. What more has the merciless Tyrant said?” The Monk sat down on the stony bed. The blood red ran from
To Winter
O Winter! bar thine adamantine doors: The north is thine; there hast thou built thy dark Deep-founded habitation. Shake not thy roofs, Nor bend thy pillars with thine iron car.’ He hears me not,
The Little Boy Found
The little boy lost in the lonely fen, Led by the wand’ring light, Began to cry, but God ever nigh, Appeared like his father in white. He kissed the child & by the hand
The Sky is an Immortal Tent Built by the Sons of Los (from
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
The Caverns of the Grave I've Seen
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, Who shall I dare to show them to? What mighty soul i
Fair Elanor
The bell struck one, and shook the silent tower; The graves give up their dead: fair Elenor Walk’d by the castle gate, and lookиd in. A hollow groan ran thro’ the dreary vaults. She