William Blake

A Divine Image
Cruelty has a human heart,
And Jealousy a human face;
Terror the human form divine,
And Secrecy the human dress.
The human dress is forged iron;
The human form, a fiery forge;
The human face, a furnace sealed;
The human heart, its hungry gorge.
William Blake (1757-1827) P. 1793
A Dream
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:

‘Oh my children! Do they cry?
Do they hear their father sigh?
Now they look abroad to see,
Now return and weep for me.’

Pitying I dropped a tear;
But I saw a glow-worm near,
Who replied: ‘What wailing wight
Calls the watchman of the night?

‘I am set to light the ground,
While the beetle goes his round.
Follow now the beetle’s hum.
Little wanderer hie thee home.’
William Blake (1757-1827) P. 1789
A Poison Tree
I was angry with my friend;
I told my wrath—my wrath did end.
I was angry with my foe;
I told it not—my wrath did grow.

And I watered it in fears,
Night and morning with my tears,
And I sunned it with smiles,
And with soft deceitful wiles.

And it grew both day and night,
Till it bore an apple bright.
And my foe beheld it shine,
And he knew that it was mine,

And into my garden stole
When the night had veiled the pole.
In the morning glad I see
My foe outstretched beneath the tree.
William Blake (1757-1827) P. 1793

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