William Blake

William
Blake

1757-11-28 - 1827-08-12

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Blake William The School boy

I love to rise in a summer morn,
When the birds sing on every tree;
The distant huntsman winds his horn,
And the sky-lark sings with me.
O! What sweet company.

But to go to school in a summer morn
O! It drives all joy away
Under a cruel eye outworn,
The little ones spend the day,
In sighing and dismay.

Ah! Then at times I drooping sit,
And spend many an anxious hour.
Nor in my book can I take delight,
Nor sit in learnings bower,
Worn thro' with the dreary shower

How can the bird for joy,
Sit in a cage and sing.
How can a child when fears annoy,
But droop his tender wing,
And forget his youthful spring.

O! Father & mother, if buds are nip'd,
And blossoms blown away,
And if the tender plants are strip'd
Of their joy in the springing day,
By sorrow and cares dismay,

How shall the summer arise in joy
Or the summer fruits appear
Or how shall we gather what griefs destroy
Or bless the mellowing year,
When the blasts of winter appear.
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Blake William The Smile

There is a smile of Love
And there is a smile of Deceit
And there is a smile of smiles
In which these two smiles meet.

And there is a frown of hate
And there is a frown of disdain
And there is a frown of frowns
Which you strive to forget in vain.

For it sticks in the Heart's deep Core
And it sticks on the deep Back bone
And no Smile that ever was smiled
But only the smile alone.

That betwixt the Cradle & Grave
It only once Smil'd can be,
But when it once is smil'd
There's an end to all Misery.
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Blake William The Tyger

Tyger! Tyger! 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, & what art,
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
And when thy heart began to beat,
What dread hand? & 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 water`d heaven with their tears,
Did he smile his work to see?
Did he who made the Lamb make thee?

Tyger! Tyger! burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?
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Blake William Tygrys

Tygrys, tygrys w puszczach nocy
Świeci blaskiem pełnym mocy.
Czyj wzrok, czyja dłoń przelała
Grozę tę w symetrię ciała?

W jakiej głębi i przeźroczu
Płonął ogień twoich oczu?
Czy moc Jego w skrzydłach grała,
że dłoń płomień porwać śmiała?

Co za ramię kunsztem siły
Sercu twemu sprzęgło żyły?
I gdy serce bić poczęło,
Czyich stóp i rąk to dzieło?

Co za łańcuch, co za młoty,
Jaki piec lał mózgu sploty?
Na kowadle - czyj chwyt twardy
Śmiał ujarzmić twój gniew hardy?

Gdy gwiazd włócznie spadły z góry
I łzy trysły z każdej chmury,
Powiedz, czy ten sam Stworzyciel
W ciebie tchnął i w Jagnię życie?

Tygrys, tygrys w puszczach nocy
Świeci blaskiem pełnym mocy.
Czyj wzrok, czyja dłoń przelała
Grozę tę w symetrię ciała?
więcej
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