Blake's Selected Poems

by William Blake

  Of the marriage ring

  “My Spectre around me night & day”

  My Spectre around me night & day

  Like a Wild beast guards my way

  My Emanation far within

  Weeps incessantly for my Sin

  A Fathomless & boundless deep

  There we wander there we weep

  On the hungry craving wind

  My Spectre follows thee behind

  He scents thy footsteps in the snow

  Wheresoever thou dost go

  Thro the wintry hail & rain

  When wilt thou return again

  Dost thou not in Pride & scorn

  Fill with tempests all my morn

  And with jealousies & fears

  Fill my pleasant nights with tears

  Seven of my sweet loves thy knife

  Has bereaved of their life

  Their marble tombs I built with tears

  And with cold & shuddering fears

  Seven more loves weep night & day

  Round the tombs where my loves lay

  And seven more loves attend each night

  Around my couch with torches bright

  And seven more Loves in my bed

  Crown with wine my mournful head

  Pitying & forgiving all

  Thy transgressions great & small

  When wilt thou return & view

  My loves & them to life renew

  When wilt thou return & live

  When wilt thou pity as I forgive

  Never Never I return

  Still for Victory I burn

  Living thee alone Ill have

  And when dead Ill be thy Grave

  Thro the Heavn & Earth & Hell

  Thou shalt never never quell

  I will fly & thou pursue

  Night & Morn the flight renew

  Till I turn from Female Love

  And root up the Infernal Grove

  I shall never worthy be

  To Step into Eternity

  And to end thy cruel mocks

  Annihilate thee on the rocks

  And another form create

  To be subservient to my Fate

  Let us agree to give up Love

  And root up the infernal grove

  Then shall we return & see

  The worlds of happy Eternity

  & Throughout all Eternity

  I forgive you you forgive me

  As our dear Redeemer said

  This the Wine & this the Bread

  [Postscript]4

  Oer my Sins Thou sit & moan

  Hast thou no Sins of thy own

  Oer my Sins thou sit & weep

  And lull thy own Sins fast asleep

  What Transgressions I commit

  Are for thy Transgressions fit

  They thy Harlots thou their Slave

  And my Bed becomes their Grave

  Poor pale pitiable form

  That I follow in a Storm

  Iron tears & groans of lead

  Bind around my akeing head

  And let us go to the highest downs

  With many pleasing wiles

  The Woman that does not love your Frowns

  Will never embrace your smiles

  “Mock on Mock on Voltaire Rousseau”

  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

  Morning

  To find the western path

  Right thro the gates of Wrath

  I urge my way

  Sweet Mercy leads me on

  With soft repentant moan

  I see the break of day

  The war of swords & spears

  Melted by dewy tears

  Exhales on high

  The Sun is freed from fears

  And with soft grateful tears

  Ascends the sky

  The Birds

  He.

  Where thou dwellest in what Grove

  Tell me Fair one tell me love

  Where thou thy charming Nest dost build

  O thou pride of every field

  She.

  Yonder stands a lonely tree

  There I live & mourn for thee

  Morning drinks my silent tear

  And evening winds my sorrows bear

  He.

  O thou Summers harmony

  I have livd & mournd for thee

  Each day I mourn along the wood

  And night hath heard my sorrows loud

  She.

  Dost thou truly long for me

  And am I thus sweet to thee

  Sorrow now is at an End

  O my Lover & my Friend

  He.

  Come on wings of joy well fly

  To where my Bower hangs on high

  Come & make thy calm retreat

  Among green leaves & blossoms sweet

  “Why was Cupid a Boy”

  Why was Cupid a Boy

  And why a boy was he

  He should have been a Girl

  For ought that I can see

  For he shoots with his bow

  And the Girl shoots with her Eye

  And they both are merry & glad

  And laugh when we do cry

  And to make Cupid a Boy

  Was the Cupid Girls mocking plan

  For a boy cant interpret the thing

  Till he is become a man

  And then hes so piered with care

  And wounded with arrowy smarts

  That the whole business of his life

  Is to pick out the heads of the darts

  Twas the Greeks love of war

  Turnd Love into a Boy

  And Woman into a Statue of Stone

  And away fled every Joy

  To the Queen

  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:

  The Grave is Heaven’s golden Gate,

  And rich and poor around it wait;

  O Shepherdess of England’s Fold,

  Behold this Gate of Pearl and Gold!

  To dedicate to England’s Queen

  The Visions that my Soul has seen,

  And, by Her kind permission, bring

  What I have borne on solemn Wing,

  From the vast regions of the Grave,

  Before Her Throne my Wings I wave;

  Bowing before my Sov’reign’s Feet,

  “The Grave produc’d these Blossoms sweet

  “In mild repose from Earthly strife;

  “The Blossoms of Eternal Life!”

  “The Caverns of the Grave Ive seen”

  The Caverns of the Grave Ive seen

  And these I shewd to Englands Queen

  But now the Caves of Hell I view

  Who shall I dare to shew them to

  What mighty Soul in Beautys form

  Shall dauntless View the Infernal Storm

  Egremonts Countess can controll

  The flames of Hell that round me roll

  If she refuse I still go on

  Till the Heavens & Earth are gone

  Still admird by Noble minds

  Followd by Envy on the winds

  Reengravd Time after Time

  Ever in their Youthful prime

  My Designs unchangd remain

  Time may rage but rage in vain />
  For above Times troubled Fountains

  On the Great Atlantic Mountains

  In my Golden House on high

  There they Shine Eternally

  “I rose up at the dawn of day”

  I rose up at the dawn of day

  Get thee away get thee away

  Prayst thou for Riches away away

  This is the Throne of Mammon grey

  Said I this sure is very odd

  I took it to be the Throne of God

  For every Thing besides I have

  It is only for Riches that I can crave

  I have Mental Joy & Mental Health

  And Mental Friends & Mental wealth

  Ive a Wife I love & that loves me

  Ive all But Riches Bodily

  I am in Gods presence night & day

  And he never turns his face away

  The accuser of sins by my side does stand

  And he holds my money bag in his hand

  For my worldly things God makes him pay

  And hed pay for more if to him I would pray

  And so you may do the worst you can do

  Be assurd Mr Devil I wont pray to you

  Then If for Riches I must not Pray

  God knows I little of Prayers need say

  So as a Church is known by its Steeple

  If I pray it must be for other People

  He says if I do not worship him for a God

  I shall eat coarser food & go worse shod

  So as I dont value such things as these

  You must do Mr Devil just as God please

  “A fairy skipd upon my knee”

  A fairy skipd upon my knee

  Singing & dancing merrily

  I said Thou thing of patches rings

  Pins Necklaces & such like things

  Disguiser of the Female Form

  Thou paltry gilded poisnous worm

  Weeping he fell upon my thigh

  And thus in tears did soft reply

  Knowest thou not O Fairies Lord

  How much by us Contemnd Abhorrd

  Whatever hides the Female form

  That cannot bear the Mental storm

  Therefore in Pity still we give

  Our lives to make the Female live

  And what would turn into disease

  We turn to what will joy & please

  To Mrs Ann Flaxman

  A little Flower grew in a lonely Vale

  Its form was lovely but its colours. pale

  One standing in the Porches of the Sun

  When his Meridian Glories were begun

  Leapd from the steps of fire & on the grass

  Alighted where this little flower was

  With hands divine he movd the gentle Sod

  And took the Flower up in its native Clod

  Then planting it upon a Mountains brow

  ‘Tis your own fault if you dont flourish now

  The Smile

  There is a Smile of Love

  And there is a Smile of Deceit

  And there is a Smile of Smiles

  In which these two Smiles meet

  And there is a Frown of Hate

  And there is a Frown of Disdain

  And there is a Frown of Frowns

  Which you strive to forget in vain

  For it sticks in the Hearts deep Core

  And it sticks in the deep Back bone

  And no Smile that ever was smild

  But only one Smile alone

  That betwixt the Cradle & Grave

  It only once Smild can be

  But when it once is Smild

  Theres an end to all Misery

  The Golden Net

  Three Virgins at the break of day

  Whither young Man whither away

  Alas for woe! alas for woe!

  They cry & tears for ever flow

  The one was Clothd in flames of fire

  The other Clothd in iron wire

  The other Clothd in tears & sighs

  Dazling bright before my Eyes

  They bore a Net of Golden twine

  To hang upon the Branches fine

  Pitying I wept to see the woe

  That Love & Beauty undergo

  To be consumd in burning Fires

  And in ungratified Desires

  And in tears clothd Night & day

  Melted all my Soul away

  When they saw my Tears a Smile

  That did Heaven itself beguile

  Bore the Golden Net aloft

  As on downy Pinions soft

  Over the Morning of my Day

  Underneath the Net I stray

  Now intreating Burning Fire

  Now intreating Iron Wire

  Now intreating Tears & Sighs

  O when will the morning rise

  The Mental Traveller

  I traveld thro’ a Land of Men

  A Land of Men & Women too

  And heard & saw such dreadful things

  As cold Earth wanderers never knew

  For there the Babe is born in joy

  That was begotten in dire woe

  Just as we Reap in joy the fruit

  Which we in bitter tears did Sow

  And if the Babe is born a Boy

  He’s given to a Woman Old

  Who nails him down upon a rock

  Catches his Shrieks in Cups of gold

  She binds iron thorns around his head

  She pierces both his hands & feet

  She cuts his heart out at his side

  To make it feel both cold & heat

  Her fingers number every Nerve

  Just as a Miser counts his gold

  She lives upon his shrieks & cries

  And She grows young as he grows old

  Till he becomes a bleeding youth

  And she becomes a Virgin bright

  Then he rends up his Manacles

  And binds her down for his delight

  He plants himself in all her Nerves

  Just as a Husbandman his mould

  And She becomes his dwelling place

  And Garden fruitful Seventy fold

  An aged Shadow soon he fades

  Wandring round an Earthly Cot

  Full filled all with gems & gold

  Which he by industry had got

  And these are the gems of the Human Soul

  The rubies & pearls of a lovesick eye

  The countless gold of the akeing heart

  The martyrs groan & the lovers sigh

  They are his meat they are his drink

  He feeds the Beggar & the Poor

  And the way faring Traveller

  For ever open is his door

  His grief is their eternal joy

  They make the roofs & walls to ring

  Till from the fire on the hearth

  A little Female Babe does spring

  And she is all of solid fire

  And gems & gold that none his hand

  Dares stretch to touch her Baby form

  Or wrap her in his swaddling-band

  But She comes to the Man she loves

  If young or old or rich or poor

  They soon drive out the aged Host

  A Begger at anothers door

  He wanders weeping far away

  Untill some other take him in

  Oft blind & age-bent sore distrest

  Untill he can a Maiden win

  And to Allay his freezing Age

  The Poor Man takes her in his arms

  The Cottage fades before his Sight

  The Garden & its lovely Charms

  The Guests are scatterd thro’ the land

  For the Eye altering alters all

  The Senses roll themselves in fear

  And the flat Earth becomes a Ball

  The Stars Sun Moon all shrink away

  A desart vast without a bound

  And nothing left to eat or drink

  And a dark desart all around

  The ho
ney of her Infant lips

  The bread & wine of her sweet smile

  The wild game of her roving Eye

  Does him to Infancy beguile

  For as he eats & drinks he grows

  Younger & younger every day

  And on the desart wild they both

  Wander in terror & dismay

  Like the wild Stag she flees away

  Her fear plants many a thicket wild

  While he pursues her night & day

  By various arts of Love beguild

  By various arts of Love & Hate

  Till the wide desart planted oer

  With Labyrinths of wayward Love

  Where roams the Lion Wolf & Boar

  Till he becomes a wayward Babe

  And she a weeping Woman Old

  Then many a Lover wanders here

  The Sun & Stars are nearer rolld

  The trees bring forth sweet Extacy

  To all who in the desart roam

  Till many a City there is Built

  And many a pleasant Shepherds home