The poems, with specimens of the prose writings, of William Blake, with a prefatory notice, biogr. and critical, by J. Skipsey1885 |
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Albert Durer angel Anne Hathaway arms artist AUDLEY babe beauty beneath Blake Blake's blood blossoms breast bright brow burning 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 thought tigers Titian tree trembling vales voice walk wandered weep wept Wife of Bath wild William William Blake wings youth
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หน้า 132 - 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 1
หน้า 262 - Canterbury Pilgrims had been done by any other power than that of the poetic visionary, it would have been as dull as his adversary's. The spirits of the murdered bards assist in weaving the deadly woof; " With me in dreadful harmony they join And weave, with bloody hands, the tissue of thy line.
หน้า 242 - who bends to himself a joy Does the winged life destroy ; But he who kisses the joy as it flics Lives in eternity's sunrise. If you trap the moment before it's ripe, The tears of repentance you'll certainly wipe But, if once you let the ripe moment go, You can never wipe off the tears of woe. SEED-SOWING.
หน้า 133 - 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 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 my joy to hear.
หน้า 10 - He showed me lilies for my hair. And blushing roses for my brow ; He led me through his garden fair, Where all his 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.
หน้า 146 - Then every man, of every clime, That prays in his distress, Prays to the human form divine : Love, Mercy, Pity, Peace. And all must love the human form, In heathen, Turk, or Jew. Where Mercy, Love, and Pity dwell, There God is dwelling too. HOLY THURSDAY.
หน้า 11 - He loves to sit and 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
หน้า 171 - Thy summer's play My thoughtless hand Has brushed away. Am not I A fly like thee? Or art not thou A man like me ? For I dance, And drink, and sing, Till some blind hand Shall brush my wing. If thought is life And strength and breath, And the want Of thought is death
หน้า 162 - HOLY THURSDAY. TS this a holy thing to see In a rich and fruitful land— Babes reduced to misery, Fed with cold and usurous hand ? Is that trembling cry a song? Can it be a song of joy? And so many children poor? It is a land of poverty 1
หน้า 10 - was fourteen years old. It is merely entitled " A Song," and runs thus— " How sweet I roamed from field to field And tasted all the summer's pride, Till I the Prince of Love beheld, Who in the sunny beams did glide I