The Poems: With Specimens of the Prose Writings, of William BlakeW. Scott, limited, 1885 - 282 หน้า This book collects Blake's famous and unique writings along with a biographical and critical introduction. |
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ผลการค้นหา 1 - 5 จาก 33
หน้า 10
... golden pleasures grow . " With sweet May - dews my wings are wet , And Phoebus fired my vocal rage ; He caught me in his silken net , And shut me in his golden cage . " He loves to sit and hear me sing , ΤΟ INTRODUCTORY SKETCH .
... golden pleasures grow . " With sweet May - dews my wings are wet , And Phoebus fired my vocal rage ; He caught me in his silken net , And shut me in his golden cage . " He loves to sit and hear me sing , ΤΟ INTRODUCTORY SKETCH .
หน้า 11
... hear me sing , Then , laughing , sports and plays with me ; Then stretches out my golden wing , And mocks my loss of liberty . " Talk of inspiration ! -if the boy who produced that was not inspired , then who in any age ever was ? For ...
... hear me sing , Then , laughing , sports and plays with me ; Then stretches out my golden wing , And mocks my loss of liberty . " Talk of inspiration ! -if the boy who produced that was not inspired , then who in any age ever was ? For ...
หน้า 39
... hear ; all our longing eyes are turned Up to thy bright pavilions : issue forth , And let thy holy feet visit our clime ! Come o'er the eastern hills , and let our winds Kiss thy perfumèd garments ; let us taste Thy morn and evening ...
... hear ; all our longing eyes are turned Up to thy bright pavilions : issue forth , And let thy holy feet visit our clime ! Come o'er the eastern hills , and let our winds Kiss thy perfumèd garments ; let us taste Thy morn and evening ...
หน้า 42
... adamantine doors : The north is thine ; there hast thou built thy dark Deep - founded habitation . Shake not thy roofs , Nor bend thy pillars with thine iron car . He hears me not , but o'er the yawning deep 42 BLAKE'S POEMS . To Winter.
... adamantine doors : The north is thine ; there hast thou built thy dark Deep - founded habitation . Shake not thy roofs , Nor bend thy pillars with thine iron car . He hears me not , but o'er the yawning deep 42 BLAKE'S POEMS . To Winter.
หน้า 43
... hears me not , but o'er the yawning deep Rides heavy ; his storms are unchained , sheathed In ribbed steel ; I dare not lift mine eyes ; For he hath reared his sceptre o'er the world . Lo ! now the direful monster , whose skin clings To ...
... hears me not , but o'er the yawning deep Rides heavy ; his storms are unchained , sheathed In ribbed steel ; I dare not lift mine eyes ; For he hath reared his sceptre o'er the world . Lo ! now the direful monster , whose skin clings To ...
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Albert Durer angel Anne Hathaway arms artist AUDLEY babe beauty beneath Blake Blake's blood blossoms breast bright brow Chandos character Chaucer clothed clouds colour dark death delight dost doth earth echoing green Emanuel Swedenborg eternal eyes fair father fear feet field fire flowers frowning fruit genius gold golden groan Gwin hand happy hath head hear heard heart heaven Henry Baillie holy HOLY THURSDAY human infant JOSEPH SKIPSEY KING lamb land laugh light lion Lord Lyca merry morning mother never night o'er Painter pale pity poet Prince Queen QUEEN PHILIPPA Robert Moffat round shining sigh silent sing sleep smile song Songs of Experience sorrow soul sweet tears tell thee Thel thine thou tigers Titian tree trembling vales voice walk wandered weep wept wife Wife of Bath wild William William Blake wings youth
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หน้า 170 - In what distant deeps or skies Burnt the fire of thine eyes? On what wings dare he aspire? What the hand dare seize the fire? And what shoulder, and what art, Could twist the sinews of thy heart? And when thy heart began to beat, What dread hand? and what dread feet? What the hammer? what the chain? In what furnace was thy brain? What the anvil? what dread grasp Dare its deadly terrors clasp? When the stars threw down their spears, And watered heaven with their tears, Did He smile His work to see?...
หน้า 12 - To HELEN Helen, thy beauty is to me Like those Nicean barks of yore, That gently, o'er a perfumed sea, The weary, way-worn wanderer bore To his own native shore. On desperate seas long wont to roam, Thy hyacinth hair, thy classic face, Thy Naiad airs have brought me home To the glory that was Greece And the grandeur that was Rome.
หน้า 141 - To Mercy, Pity, Peace, and Love, All pray in their distress, And to these virtues of delight Return their thankfulness. For Mercy, Pity, Peace, and Love, Is God our Father dear; And Mercy, Pity, Peace, and Love, Is man, His child and care. For Mercy has a human heart; Pity, a human face; And Love, the human form divine: And Peace, the human dress.
หน้า 175 - Thames does flow, And 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-forg'd manacles I hear: How the Chimney-sweeper's cry Every black'ning Church appalls, And the hapless Soldier's sigh Runs in blood down Palace walls; But most thro' midnight streets I hear How the youthful Harlot's curse Blasts the new born Infant's tear.
หน้า 178 - 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...
หน้า 148 - Then come home, my children, the sun is gone down, And the dews of night arise ; Come, come, leave off play, and let us away, Till the morning appears in the skies.
หน้า 58 - Whether in Heaven ye wander fair, Or the green corners of the earth, Or the blue regions of the air Where the melodious winds have birth...
หน้า 133 - I am black, as if bereav'd 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, 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 noon day.
หน้า 224 - TIGER! Tiger! burning bright In the forests of the night, What immortal hand or eye Could frame thy fearful symmetry? In what distant deeps or skies Burnt the fire of thine eyes? On what wings dare he aspire? What the hand dare seize the fire? And what shoulder, and what art, Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
หน้า 206 - The hand of Vengeance found the bed To which the purple tyrant fled; The iron hand crush'd the tyrant's head, And became a tyrant in his stead.' Auguries of Innocence To see a World in a grain of sand, And a Heaven in a wild flower, Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand, And Eternity in an hour. A robin redbreast in a cage Puts all Heaven in a rage. A dove-house fill'd with doves and pigeons Shudders Hell thro