William Blake Poems

  • 1.  
    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;
  • 2.  
    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
  • 3.  
    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:
  • 4.  
    When silver snow decks Susan's clothes,
    And jewel hangs at th' shepherd's nose, The blushing bank is all my care,
  • 5.  
    Why art thou silent and invisible
    Father of jealousy Why dost thou hide thyself in clouds
  • 6.  
    He who binds to himself a joy
    Does the winged life destroy; But he who kisses the joy as it flies
  • 7.  
    Piping down the valleys wild,
    Piping songs of pleasant glee, On a cloud I saw a child,
  • 8.  
    A little black thing among the snow:
    Crying weep, weep, in notes of woe! Where are thy father & mother? say?
  • 9.  
    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.
  • 10.  
    My spectre around me night and day
    Like a wild beast guards my way. My emanation far within
  • 11.  
    When my mother died I was very young,
    And my father sold me while yet my tongue, Could scarcely cry weep weep weep weep,
  • 12.  
    Does the Eagle know what is in the pit?
    Or wilt thou go ask the Mole: Can Wisdom be put in a silver rod?
  • 13.  
    Tiger, tiger, burning bright
    In the forests of the night, What immortal hand or eye
  • 14.  
    I
    The daughters of Mne Seraphim led round their sunny flocks,
  • 15.  
    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,
  • 16.  
    A little black thing in the snow,
    Crying "weep! weep!" in notes of woe! "Where are thy father and mother? Say!"
  • 17.  
    Hear the voice of the Bard,
    Who present, past, and future, sees; Whose ears have heard
  • 18.  
    Piping down the valleys wild,
    Piping songs of pleasant glee, On a cloud I saw a child,
  • 19.  
    '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,
  • 20.  
    When my mother died I was very young,
    And my father sold me while yet my tongue Could scarcely cry "Weep! weep! weep! weep!"
  • 21.  
    What is it men in women do require?
    The lineaments of gratified Desire. What is it women do in men require?
  • 22.  
    A Robin Redbreast in a cage,
    Puts all Heaven in a rage.
  • 23.  
    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:
  • 24.  
    I saw a chapel all of gold
    That none did dare to enter in, And many weeping stood without,
  • 25.  
    AFRICA
    I will sing you a song of Los. the Eternal Prophet:
  • 26.  
    The vision of Christ that thou dost see
    Is my visionâ??s greatest enemy. Thine has a great hook nose like thine;
  • 27.  
    To see a world in a grain of sand,
    And a heaven in a wild flower, Hold infinity in the palm of your hand
  • 28.  
    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! O Truth! that shinest with propitious beams, turning our earthly night to heavenly day, from presence of the Almighty Father, thou visitest our darkling world with blessed feet, bringing good news of Sin and Death destroyed! O whiterobed Angel, guide my timorous hand to write as on a lofty rock with iron pen the words of truth, that all who pass may read. -- Now Night, noontide of damned spirits, over the silent earth spreads her pavilion, while in dark council sat Philista's lords; and, where strength failed, black thoughts in ambush lay. Their helmed youth and aged warriors in dust together lie, and Desolation spreads his wings over the land of Palestine: from side to side the land groans, her prowess lost, and seeks to hide her bruised head under the mists of night, breeding dark plots. For Dalila's fair arts have long been tried in vain; in vain she wept in many a treacherous tear. `Go on, fair traitress; do thy guileful work; ere once again the changing moon her circuit hath performed, thou shalt overcome, and conquer him by force unconquerable, and wrest his secret from him. Call thine alluring arts and honest-seeming brow, the holy kiss of love, and the transparent tear; put on fair linen that with the lily vies, purple and silver; neglect thy hair, to seem more lovely in thy loose attire; put on thy country's pride, deceit, and eyes of love decked in mild sorrow; and sell thy lord for gold.' For now, upon her sumptuous couch reclined in gorgeous pride, she still entreats, and still she grasps his vigorous knees with her fair arms. `Thou lov'st me not! thou'rt war, thou art not love! O foolish Dalila! O weak woman! it is death clothed in flesh thou lovest, and thou hast been encircled in his arms! Alas, my lord, what am I calling thee? Thou art my God! To thee I pour my tears for sacrifice morning and evening. My days are covered with sorrow, shut up, darkened! By night I am deceived! Who says that thou wast born of mortal kind? Destruction was thy father, a lioness suckled thee, thy young hands tore human limbs, and gorged human flesh. Come hither, Death; art thou not Samson's servant? 'Tis Dalila that calls, thy master's wife; no, stay, and let thy master do the deed: one blow of that strong arm would ease my pain; then should I lay at quiet and have rest. Pity forsook thee at thy birth! O Dagon furious, and all ye gods of Palestine, withdraw your hand! I am but a weak woman. Alas, I am wedded to your enemy! I will go mad, and tear my crisped hair; 1000 I'll run about, and pierce the ears o' th' gods! O Samson, hold me not; thou lovest me not! Look not upon me with those deathful eyes! Thou wouldst my death, and death approaches fast.' Thus, in false tears, she bath'd his feet, and thus she day by day oppressed his soul: he seemed a mountain; his brow among the clouds; she seemed a silver stream, his feet embracing. Dark thoughts rolled to and fro in his mind, like thunder clouds troubling the sky; his visage was troubled; his soul was distressed. `Though I should tell her all my heart, what can I fear? Though I should tell this secret of my birth, the utmost may be warded off as well when told as now.' She saw him moved, and thus resumes her wiles. `Samson, I'm thine; do with me what thou wilt: my friends are enemies; my life is death; I am a traitor to my nation, and despised; my joy is given into the hands of him who hates me, using deceit to the wife of his bosom. Thrice hast thou mocked me and grieved my soul. Didst thou not tell me with green withs to bind thy nervous arms; and, after that, when I had found thy falsehood, with new ropes to bind thee fast? I knew thou didst but mock me. Alas, when in thy sleep I bound thee with them to try thy truth, I cried, "The Philistines be upon thee, Samson!" Then did suspicion wake thee; how didst thou rend the feeble ties! Thou fearest nought, what shouldst thou fear? Thy power is more than mortal, none can hurt thee; thy bones are brass, thy sinews are iron. Ten thousand spears are like the summer grass; an army of mighty men are as flocks in the valleys; what canst thou fear? I drink my tears like water; I live upon sorrow! O worse than wolves and tigers, what canst thou give when such a trifle is denied me? But O! at last thou mockest me, to shame my over-fond inquiry. Thou toldest me to weave thee to the beam by thy strong hair; I did even that to try thy truth; but, when I cried "The Philistines be upon thee!" then didst thou leave me to bewail that Samson loved me not.' He sat, and inward griev'd; he saw and lov'd the beauteous suppliant, nor could conceal aught that might appease her; then, leaning on her bosom, thus he spoke: `Hear, O Dalila! doubt no more of Samson's love; for that fair breast was made the ivory palace of my inmost heart, where it shall lie at rest: for sorrow is the lot of all of woman born: for care was I brought forth, and labour is my lot: nor matchless might, nor wisdom, nor every gift enjoyed, can from the heart of man hide sorrow. Twice was my birth foretold from heaven, and twice a sacred vow enjoined me that I should drink no wine, nor eat of any unclean thing; for holy unto Israel's God I am, a Nazarite even from my mother's womb. Twice was it told, that it might not be broken. "Grant me a son, kind Heaven," Manoa cried; but Heaven refused. Childless he mourned, but thought his God knew best. In solitude, though not obscure, in Israel he lived, till venerable age came on: his flocks increased, and plenty crowned his board, beloved, revered of man. But God hath other joys in store. Is burdened Israel his grief? The son of his old age shall set it free! The venerable sweetener of his life receives the promise first from Heaven. She saw the maidens play, and blessed their innocent mirth; she blessed each new-joined pair; but from her the long-wished deliverer shall spring. Pensive, alone she sat within the house, when busy day was fading, and calm evening, time for contemplation, rose from the forsaken east, and drew the curtains of heaven: pensive she sat, and thought on Israel's grief, and silent prayed to Israel's God; when lo! an angel from the fields of light entered the house. His form was manhood in the prime, and from his spacious brow shot terrors through the evening shade. But mild he hailed her, "Hail, highly favoured!" said he; "for lo! thou shalt conceive, and bear a son, and Israel's strength shall be upon his shoulders, and he shall be called Israel's Deliverer. Now, therefore, drink no wine, and eat not any unclean thing, for he shall be a Nazarite to God." Then, as a nei 727 ghbour, when his evening tale is told, departs, his blessing leaving, so seemed he to depart: she wondered with exceeding joy, nor knew he was an angel. Manoa left his fields to sit in the house, and take his evening's rest from labour -- the sweetest time that God has allotted mortal man. He sat, and heard with joy, and praised God, who Israel still doth keep. The time rolled on, and Israel groaned oppressed. The sword was bright, while the ploughshare rusted, till hope grew feeble, and was ready to give place to doubting. Then prayed Manoa: "O Lord, thy flock is scattered on the hills! The wolf teareth them, Oppression stretches his rod over our land, our country is ploughed with swords, and reaped in blood. The echoes of slaughter reach from hill to hill. Instead of peaceful pipe the shepherd bears a sword, the ox-goad is turned into a spear. O when shall our Deliverer come? The Philistine riots on our flocks, our vintage is gathered by bands of enemies. Stretch forth thy hand, and save!" Thus prayed Manoa. The aged woman walked into the field, and lo! again the angel came, clad as a traveller fresh risen on his journey. She ran and called her husband, who came and talked with him. "O man of God," said he, "thou comest from far! Let us d

  • 29.  
    Piping down the valleys wild,
    Piping songs of pleasant glee, On a cloud I saw a child,
  • 30.  
    Daughters of Beulah! Muses who inspire the Poet's Song,
    Record the journey of immortal Milton thro' your realms Of terror and mild moony lustre, in soft Sexual delusions
  • 31.  
    O Autumn, laden with fruit, and stainèd
    With the blood of the grape, pass not, but sit Beneath my shady roof; there thou may'st rest,
  • 32.  
    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,
  • 33.  
    And did those feet in ancient time
    Walk upon England's mountains green? And was the holy Lamb of God
  • 34.  
    How sweet I roam'd from field to field,
    And tasted all the summer's pride 'Til the prince of love beheld
  • 35.  
    The modest Rose puts forth a thorn,
    The humble sheep a threat'ning horn: While the Lily white shall in love delight,
  • 36.  
    Memory, hither come,
    And tune your merry notes; And, while upon the wind
  • 37.  
    a
    1. Los smitten with astonishment
  • 38.  
    I heard an Angel singing
    When the day was springing, 'Mercy, Pity, Peace
  • 39.  
    Truly My Satan thou art but a Dunce
    And dost not know the Garment from the Man Every Harlot was a Virgin once
  • 40.  
    O Winter! bar thine adamantine doors:
    The north is thine; there hast thou built thy dark Deep-founded habitation. Shake not thy roofs,
  • 41.  
    'Love seeketh not itself to please,
    Nor for itself hath any care, But for another gives its ease,
  • 42.  
    â??COME hither, my Sparrows,
    My little arrows. If a tear or a smile
  • 43.  
    Never seek to tell thy love,
    Love that never told can be; For the gentle wind does move
  • 44.  
    There is a Smile of Love
    And there is a Smile of Deceit And there is a Smile of Smiles
  • 45.  
    When Klopstock England defied,
    Uprose William Blake in his pride; For old Nobodaddy aloft
  • 46.  
    And did those feet in ancient time
    Walk upon England's mountains green? And was the holy Lamb of God
  • 47.  
    1. The voice ended, they saw his pale visage
    Emerge from the darkness; his hand On the rock of eternity unclasping
  • 48.  
    And did those feet in ancient time
    Walk upon England's mountains green? And was the holy Lamb of God
  • 49.  
    England! awake! awake! awake!
    Jerusalem thy Sister calls! Why wilt thou sleep the sleep of death
  • 50.  
    1 Does the Eagle know what is in the pit?
    2 Or wilt thou go ask the Mole? 3 Can Wisdom be put in a silver rod?
Total 166 poems written by William Blake

Poem of the day

Charles Hamilton Sorley Poem
All The Hills And Vales Along
 by Charles Hamilton Sorley

All the hills and vales along
Earth is bursting into song,
And the singers are the chaps
Who are going to die perhaps.
O sing, marching men,
Till the valleys ring again.
Give your gladness to earth's keeping,
So be glad, when you are sleeping.
...

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