Category William Blake

When Nations grow Old, the Arts grow Cold, And Commerce settles on every Tree; And the Poor & the Old can live upon Gold, For all are Born Poor, Aged Sixty-three.

When Sir Joshua Reynolds died All Nature was degraded; The King drop’d a tear into the Queen’s Ear, And all his Pictures Faded.

Some look to see the sweet Outlines, And beauteous Forms that Love does wear ; Some look to find out Patches, Paint, Bracelets & Stays & Powder’d Hair.

Degrade first the Arts if you’d mankind degrade, Hire idiots to paint with cold light and hot shade, Give high price for the worst, leave the best in disgrace, And with labours of ignorance fill every place.

The door of Death is made of gold, That mortal eyes cannot behold; But when the mortal eyes are clos’d, And cold and pale the limbs repos’d, The soul awakes; and, wond’ring, sees In her mild hand the golden Keys:…

A fairy leapt upon my knee Singing and dancing merrily; I said, ‘Thou thing of patches, rings, Pins, necklaces, and such-like things, Disgracer of the female form, Thou paltry, gilded, poisonous worm!’ Weeping, he fell upon my thigh, And thus…

O! why was I born with a different face? Why was I not born like the rest of my race? When I look, each one starts; when I speak, I offend; Then I’m silent and passive, and lose every friend.…

With happiness stretch’d across the hills In a cloud that dewy sweetness distills; With a blue sky spread over with wings. And a mild Sun that mounts & sings; With trees & fields full of Fairy elves, And little devils…

Wife of the friend of those I most revere, Receive this tribute from a harp sincere; Go on in virtuous seed-sowing on mould Of human vegetation, and behold Your harvest springing to eternal life, Parent of youthful minds, and happy…

To my friend Butts I write My first vision of light, On the yellow sands sitting. The sun was emitting His glorious beams From Heaven’s high streams. Over sea, over land, My eyes did expand Into regions of air, Away…