William Blake Poems
London I wander thro' each charter'd street.
Near where the charter'd Thames does flowA mark in every face I meet
Laughing Song 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,
Infant Sorrow My mother groand! my father wept,
Into the dangerous world I leapt:Helpless, naked, piping loud:
Infant Joy I have no name
I am but two days old.-What shall I call thee?
Holy Thursday (innocence) Twas on a Holy Thursday their innocent faces clean
The children walking two & two in red & blue & greenGrey headed beadles walked before with wands as white as snow
Holy Thursday (experience) Is this a holy thing to see.
In a rich and fruitful land.Babes reduced to misery.
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
Earth’s Answer Earth raised up her head.
From the darkness dread & drear,Her light fled:
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 Did Those Feet In Ancient Time And did those feet in ancient time
Walk upon England's mountains green?And was the holy Lamb of God
Ah! Sun-flower Ah Sun-flower! weary of time.
Who countest the steps of the Sun;Seeking after that sweet golden clime
A Poison Tree I was angry with my friend;
I told my wrath, my wrath did end.I was angry with my foe:
A Little Girl Lost Children of the future Age,
Reading this indignant page;Know that in a former time.
A Little Boy Lost Nought loves another as itself
Nor venerates another so.Nor is it possible to Thought
A Dream Once a dream did weave a shade,
O'er my Angel-guarded bed.That an Emmet lost it's way
A Cradle Song Sweet dreams form a shade,
O'er my lovely infants head.Sweet dreams of pleasant streams,
Total 166 poems written by William Blake
Poem of the day
To Germany by Charles Hamilton Sorley
You are blind like us. Your hurt no man designed,
And no man claimed the conquest of your land.
But gropers both through fields of thought confined
We stumble and we do not understand.
You only saw your future bigly planned,
And we, the tapering paths of our own mind,
And in each others dearest ways we stand,
And hiss and hate. And the blind fight the blind.
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