William Blake Collection - William Blake - E-Book

William Blake Collection E-Book

William Blake

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Beschreibung

Songs of Innocence, and Songs of Experience The Marriage of Heaven and Hell Once a dream did weave a shade O'er my angel guarded bed, That an emmet lost its way Where on grass methought I lay. Troubled, wildered, and forlorn, Dark, benighted, travel-worn, Over many a tangled spray, All heart broke, I heard her say: 'O my children! do they cry, Do they hear their father sigh? Now they look abroad to see, Now return and weep for me.

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UUID: 8fccb1b4-bd6d-11e8-9105-17532927e555
Published by BoD - Books on Demand, Norderstedt

ISBN: 9783748111122

This ebook was created with StreetLib Writehttp://write.streetlib.com

Table of contents

SONGS OF INNOCENCE and SONGS OF EXPERIENCE

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 CRADLE SONG

THE 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 TIGER

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

A DIVINE IMAGE

A CRADLE SONG

THE SCHOOLBOY

TO TIRZAH

THE VOICE OF THE ANCIENT BARD

THE MARRIAGE OF HEAVEN AND HELL

THE ARGUMENT

THE VOICE OF THE DEVIL

A MEMORABLE FANCY

PROVERBS OF HELL

A MEMORABLE FANCY

A MEMORABLE FANCY

A MEMORABLE FANCY

A MEMORABLE FANCY

A SONG OF LIBERTY

CHORUS

SONGS OF INNOCENCE and SONGS OF EXPERIENCE

SONGS OF INNOCENCE

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 sung 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 vanished from my sight; And I plucked a hollow reed,And I made a rural pen, And I stained 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 strays;He shall follow his sheep all the day,And his tongue shall be fillèd with praise.

For he hears the lambs’ innocent call,And he hears the ewes’ tender reply;He is watchful 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 ringTo welcome the Spring;The skylark and thrush,The birds of the bush,Sing louder aroundTo the bells’ cheerful sound;While our sports shall be seenOn 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 joysWhen we all—girls and boys—In our youth-time were seenOn 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 mothersMany sisters and brothers,Like birds in their nest,Are ready for rest,And sport no more seenOn the darkening green.

THE LAMB

Little lamb, who made thee? Does thou know who made thee,Gave thee life, and bid thee feedBy 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? Does thou know who made thee?

Little lamb, I’ll tell thee; Little lamb, I’ll tell thee:He is callèd 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 callèd 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 O 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 kissèd me, And, pointing 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 Are but a cloud, and like a shady grove.

‘ For, when our souls have learned 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!