Poems of William Blake E-Book

William Blake

• Herausgeber: Classic Poetry
• Kategorie: Poesie und Drama
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2018

Beschreibung

William Blake was an English poet, painter, and printmaker. Largely unrecognised during his lifetime, Blake is now considered a seminal figure in the history of the poetry and visual arts of the Romantic Age. His prophetic poetry has been said to form "what is in proportion to its merits the least read body of poetry in the English language".His visual artistry led one contemporary art critic to proclaim him "far and away the greatest artist Britain has ever produced". In 2002, Blake was placed at number 38 in the BBC's poll of the 100 Greatest Britons.Although he lived in London his entire life (except for three years spent in Felpham),he produced a diverse and symbolically rich œuvre, which embraced the imagination as "the body of God"or "human existence itself".Although Blake was considered mad by contemporaries for his idiosyncratic views, he is held in high regard by later critics for his expressiveness and creativity, and for the philosophical and mystical undercurrents within his work. His paintings and poetry have been characterised as part of the Romantic movement and as "Pre-Romantic".Reverent of the Bible but hostile to the Church of England (indeed, to almost all forms of organised religion), Blake was influenced by the ideals and ambitions of the French and American Revolutions.Though later he rejected many of these political beliefs, he maintained an amiable relationship with the political activist Thomas Paine; he was also influenced by thinkers such as Emanuel Swedenborg. Despite these known influences, the singularity of Blake's work makes him difficult to classify. The 19th-century scholar William Rossetti characterised him as a "glorious luminary",and "a man not forestalled by predecessors, nor to be classed with contemporaries, nor to be replaced by known or readily surmisable successors".

Leseprobe

POEMS OF WILLIAM BLAKE

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William Blake

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This book is a work of poetry; its contents are wholly imagined.

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TABLE OF CONTENTS

SONGS OF INNOCENCE

INTRODUCTION

THE SHEPHERD

THE ECHOING GREEN

THE LAMB

THE LITTLE BLACK BOY

THE BLOSSOM

THE CHIMNEY-SWEEPER

THE LITTLE BOY LOST

THE LITTLE BOY FOUND

LAUGHING SONG

A SONG

DIVINE IMAGE

HOLY THURSDAY

NIGHT

SPRING

NURSE’S SONG

INFANT JOY

A DREAM

ON ANOTHER’S SORROW

SONGS OF EXPERIENCE

INTRODUCTION

EARTH’S ANSWER

THE CLOD AND THE PEBBLE

HOLY THURSDAY

THE LITTLE GIRL LOST

THE LITTLE GIRL FOUND

THE CHIMNEY SWEEPER

NURSE’S SONG

THE SICK ROSE

THE FLY

THE ANGEL

THE TYGER

MY PRETTY ROSE TREE

AH SUNFLOWER

THE LILY

THE GARDEN OF LOVE

THE LITTLE VAGABOND

LONDON

THE HUMAN ABSTRACT

INFANT SORROW

A POISON TREE

A LITTLE BOY LOST

A LITTLE GIRL LOST

THE SCHOOLBOY

TO TIRZAH

THE VOICE OF THE ANCIENT BARD

APPENDIX

A DIVINE IMAGE

THEL

SONGS OF INNOCENCE

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INTRODUCTION

Piping down the valleys wild,

Piping songs of pleasant glee,

On a cloud I saw a child,

And he laughing said to me:

“Pipe a song about a Lamb!”

So I piped with merry cheer.

“Piper, pipe that song again;”

So I piped: he wept to hear.

“Drop thy pipe, thy happy pipe;

Sing thy songs of happy cheer!”

So I sang the same again,

While he wept with joy to hear.

“Piper, sit thee down and write

In a book, that all may read.”

So he vanish’d from my sight;

And I pluck’d a hollow reed,

And I made a rural pen,

And I stain’d the water clear,

And I wrote my happy songs

Every child may joy to hear.

THE SHEPHERD

How sweet is the Shepherd’s sweet lot!

From the morn to the evening he stays;

He shall follow his sheep all the day,

And his tongue shall be filled with praise.

For he hears the lambs’ innocent call,

And he hears the ewes’ tender reply;

He is watching while they are in peace,

For they know when their Shepherd is nigh.

THE ECHOING GREEN

The sun does arise,

And make happy the skies;

The merry bells ring

To welcome the Spring;

The skylark and thrush,

The birds of the bush,

Sing louder around

To the bells’ cheerful sound;

While our sports shall be seen

On the echoing Green.

Old John, with white hair,

Does laugh away care,

Sitting under the oak,

Among the old folk.

They laugh at our play,

And soon they all say,

“Such, such were the joys

When we all—girls and boys—

In our youth-time were seen

On the echoing Green.”

Till the little ones, weary,

No more can be merry:

The sun does descend,

And our sports have an end.

Round the laps of their mothers

Many sisters and brothers,

Like birds in their nest,

Are ready for rest,

And sport no more seen

On the darkening green.

THE LAMB

Little Lamb, who made thee

Dost thou know who made thee,

Gave thee life, and bid thee feed

By the stream and o’er the mead;

Gave thee clothing of delight,

Softest clothing, woolly, bright;

Gave thee such a tender voice,

Making all the vales rejoice?

Little Lamb, who made thee?

Dost thou know who made thee?

Little Lamb, I’ll tell thee;

Little Lamb, I’ll tell thee:

He is called by thy name,

For He calls Himself a Lamb

He is meek, and He is mild,

He became a little child.

I a child, and thou a lamb,

We are called by His name.

Little Lamb, God bless thee!

Little Lamb, God bless thee!

THE LITTLE BLACK BOY

My mother bore me in the southern wild,

And I am black, but oh my soul is white!

White as an angel is the English child,

But I am black, as if bereaved of light.

My mother taught me underneath a tree,

And, sitting down before the heat of day,

She took me on her lap and kissed me,

And, pointed to the east, began to say:

“Look on the rising sun: there God does live,

And gives His light, and gives His heat away,

And flowers and trees and beasts and men receive

Comfort in morning, joy in the noonday.

“And we are put on earth a little space,

That we may learn to bear the beams of love

And these black bodies and this sunburnt face

Is but a cloud, and like a shady grove.

“For when our souls have learn’d the heat to bear,

The cloud will vanish, we shall hear His voice,

Saying, ‘Come out from the grove, my love and care

And round my golden tent like lambs rejoice’,”

Thus did my mother say, and kissed me;

And thus I say to little English boy.

When I from black and he from white cloud free,

And round the tent of God like lambs we joy

I’ll shade him from the heat till he can bear

To lean in joy upon our Father’s knee;

And then I’ll stand and stroke his silver hair,

And be like him, and he will then love me.

THE BLOSSOM

Merry, merry sparrow!

Under leaves so green

A happy blossom

Sees you, swift as arrow,

Seek your cradle narrow,

Near my bosom.

Pretty, pretty robin!

Under leaves so green

A happy blossom

Hears you sobbing, sobbing,

Pretty, pretty robin,

Near my bosom.

THE CHIMNEY-SWEEPER

When my mother died I was very young,