I wandered through each chartered street,
Near where the chartered Thames does flow,
A mark in every face I meet,
Marks of weakness, marks of woe.
In every cry of every man,
In every infant's cry of fear,
In every voice, in every ban,
The mind-forged manacles I hear:
How the chimney-sweeper's cry
Every blackening church appals,
And the hapless soldier's sigh
Runs in blood down palace-walls.
But most, through midnight streets I hear
How the youthful harlot's curse
Blasts the new-born infant's tear,
And blights with plagues the marriage-hearse.
written by William Blake, published on Wed 01.07.2009 at 05:50
To Mercy, Pity, Peace, and Love
All pray in their distress;
And to these virtues of delight
Return their thankfulness.
written by William Blake, published on Fri 01.02.2009 at 17:36
My spectre around me night and day
Like a wild beast guards my way;
My Emanation far within
Weeps incessantly for my sin.
written by William Blake, published on Wed 12.31.2008 at 13:43
I heard an Angel singing
When the day was springing,
'Mercy, Pity, Peace
Is the world's release.'
Thus he sung all day
written by William Blake, published on Sun 12.28.2008 at 15:12
The Angel that presided o'er my birth
Said, "Little creature, form'd of Joy and Mirth,
written by William Blake, published on Sat 12.13.2008 at 07:51
Hear the voice of the Bard!
Who Present, Past, & Future sees
Whose ears have heard
The Holy Word,