The Portable Blake

by William Blake

  And into my garden stole

  When the night had veil’d the pole:

  In the morning glad I see

  My foe outstretch’d beneath the tree.

  A LITTLE BOY LOST

  ‘Nought loves another as itself,

  Nor venerates another so,

  Nor is it possible to Thought

  A greater than itself to know:

  “And Father, how can I love you

  Or any of my brothers more?

  I love you like the little bird

  That picks up crumbs around the door.”

  The Priest sat by and heard the child,

  In trembling zeal he siez’d his hair:

  He led him by his little coat,

  And all admir’d the Priestly care.

  And standing on the altar high,

  “Lo ! what a fiend is herel” said he,

  “One who sets reason up for judge

  Of our most holy Mystery.”

  The weeping child could not be heard,

  The weeping parents wept in vain;

  They strip’d him to his little shirt,

  And bound him in an iron chain;

  And burn’d him in a holy place,

  Where many had been burn’d before:

  The weeping parents wept in vain.

  Are such things done on Albion’s shore?

  A LITTLE GIRL LOST

  Children of the future Age

  Reading this indignant page,

  Know that in a former time

  Love! sweet Love! was thought a crime.

  In the Age of Gold,

  Free from winter’s cold,

  Youth and maiden bright

  To the holy light,

  Naked in the sunny beams delight.

  Once a youthful pair,

  Fill’d with softest care,

  Met in garden bright

  Where the holy light

  Had just remov’d the curtains of the night.

  There, in rising day,

  On the grass they play;

  Parents were afar,

  Strangers came not near,

  And the maiden soon forgot her fear.

  Tired with kisses sweet,

  They agree to meet

  When the silent sleep

  Waves o’er heaven’s deep,

  And the weary tired wanderers weep.

  To her father white

  Came the maiden bright;

  But his loving look,

  Like the holy book,

  All her tender limbs with terror shook.

  “Ona! pale and weak !

  To thy father speak:

  0, the trembling fear!

  O, the dismal care!

  That shakes the blossoms of my hoary hair.”

  ADDITIONAL POEMS

  (1794-1901)

  TO TIRZAH

  Whate’er is Born of Mortal Birth

  Must be consumed with the Earth

  to rise from Generation free:

  Then what have I to do with thee?

  The Sexes sprung from Shame & Pride,

  Blow’d in the mom; in evening died;

  But Mercy chang’d Death into Sleep;

  The Sexes rose to work & weep.

  Thou, Mother of my Mortal part,

  With cruelty didst mould my Heart,

  And with false self-decieving tears

  Didst bind my Nostrils, Eyes, & Ears:

  Didst close my Tongue in senseless clay,

  And me to Mortal Life betray.

  The Death of Jesus set me free:

  Then what have I to do with thee?

  THE SCHOOLBOY

  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 learning’s bower,

  Worn thro’ with the dreary shower.

  How can the bird that is born 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 care’s 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?

  THE VOICE OF THE ANCIENT BARD

  Youth of delight, come hither,

  And see the opening morn,

  Image of truth new born.

  Doubt is fled, & clouds of reason,

  Dark disputes & artful teazing.

  Folly is an endless maze,

  Tangled roots perplex her ways.

  How many have fallen there!

  They stumble all night over bones of the dead,

  And feel they know not what but care,

  And wish to lead others, when they should be led.

  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 seal’d.

  The Human Heart its hungry Gorge.

  IV.

  VERSES AND FRAGMENTS FROM THE ROSSETTI AND PICKERING MANUSCRIPTS

  FIRST SERIES

  (1793-1799)

  Never seek to tell thy love

  Love that never told can be;

  For the gentle wind does move

  Silently, invisibly.

  I told my love, I told my love,

  I told her all my heart,

  Trembling, cold, in ghastly fears—

  Ah, she doth depart.

  Soon as she was gone from me

  A traveller came by

  Silently, invisibly—

  0, was no deny.

  I laid me down upon a bank

  Where love lay sleeping.

  I heard among the rushes dank

  Weeping, Weeping.

  Then I went to the heath & the wild

  To the thistles & thorns of the waste

  And they told me how they were beguil’d,

  Driven out, & compel’d to be chaste.

  I saw a chapel all of gold

  That none did dare to enter in,

  And many weeping stood without,

  Weeping, mourning, worshipping.

  I saw a serpent rise between

  The white pillars of the door,

  And he forc’d & forc’d & forc’d,

  Down the golden hinges tore.

  And along the pavement sweet,

  Set with pearls & rubies bright,

  All his slimy length he drew,

  Till upon the altar white

  Vomiting his poison out

  On the bread & on the wine.

  So I turn’d into a sty

  And laid me down among the swine.

  I asked a thief to steal me a peach:

  He turned up his eyes.

  I ask’d a lithe lady to lie her down:

  Holy & meek she cries.

  As soon as I went an angel came:

  He wink’d at the thief

  And smil’d at the dame,

  And without one word spoke

/>   Had a peach from the tree,

  And ’twixt earnest & joke

  Enjoy’d the Lady.

  I heard an Angel singing

  When the day was springing,

  “Mercy, Pity, Peace

  Is the world’s release.”

  Thus he sung all day

  Over the new mown hay,

  Till the sun went down

  And haycocks looked brown.

  I heard a Devil curse

  Over the heath & the furze,

  “Mercy could be no more,

  If there was nobody poor,

  “And pity no more could be,

  If all were as happy as we.”

  At his curse the sun went down,

  And the heavens gave a frown.

  Down pour’d the heavy rain

  Over the new reap’d grain,

  And Miseries’ increase

  Is Mercy, Pity, Peace.

  A CRADLE SONG

  Sleep, Sleep, beauty bright

  Dreaming o’er the joys of night.

  Sleep, Sleep: in thy sleep

  Little sorrows sit & weep.

  Sweet Babe, in thy face

  Soft desires I can trace

  Secret joys & secret smiles

  Little pretty infant wiles.

  As thy softest limbs I feel

  Smiles as of the morning steal

  O‘er thy cheek & o’er thy breast

  Where thy little heart does rest.

  O, the cunning wiles that creep

  In thy little heart asleep.

  When thy little heart does wake,

  Then the dreadful lightnings break.

  From thy cheek & from thy eye

  O’er the youthful harvests nigh

  Infant wiles & infant smiles

  Heaven & Earth of peace beguiles.

  I fear’d the fury of my wind

  Would blight all blossoms fair & true;

  And my sun it shin’d & shin’d

  And my wind it never blew.

  But a blossom fair or true

  Was not found on any tree;

  For all blossoms grew & grew

  Fruitless, false, tho’ fair to see.

  Why should I care for the men of thames,

  Or the cheating waves of charter’d streams,

  Or shrink at the little blasts of fear

  That the hireling blows into my ear?

  Tho’ born on the cheating banks of Thames,

  Tho’ his waters bathed my infant limbs,

  The Ohio shall wash his stains from me:

  I was born a slave, but I go to be free.

  INFANT SORROW

  My mother groan’d, my father wept;

  Into the dangerous world I leapt,

  Helpless, naked, piping loud,

  Like a fiend hid in a cloud.

  Struggling in my father’s hands

  Striving against my swaddling bands,

  Bound & weary, I thought best

  To sulk upon my mother’s breast.

  When I saw that rage was vain,

  And to sulk would nothing gain,

  Turning many a trick & wile,

  I began to soothe & smile.

  And I sooth’d day after day

  Till upon the ground I stray;

  And I smil’d night after night,

  Seeking only for delight.

  And I saw before me shine

  Clusters of the wand’ring vine,

  And many a lovely flower & tree

  Streteh’d their blossoms out to me.

  My father then with holy look,

  In his hands a holy book,

  Pronounc’d curses on my head

  And bound me in a mirtle shade.

  IN A MIRTLE SHADE

  Why should I be bound to thee,

  O my lovely mirtle tree?

  Love, free love, cannot be bound

  To any tree that grows on ground.

  0, how sick & weary I

  Underneath my mirtle lie,

  Like to dung upon the ground

  Underneath my mirtle bound.

  Oft my mirtle sigh’d in vain

  To behold my heavy chain;

  Oft my father saw us sigh,

  And laugh’d at our simplicity.

  So I smote him & his gore

  Stain’d the roots my mirtle bore.

  But the time of youth is Bed,

  And grey hairs are on my head.

  Silent, Silent Night

  Quench the holy light

  Of thy torches bright.

  For possess’d of Day

  Thousand spirits stray

  That sweet joys betray

  Why should joys be sweet

  Used with deceit

  Nor with sorrows meet?

  But an honest joy

  Does itself destroy

  For a harlot coy.

  0 lapwing, thou fliest around the heath,

  Nor seest the net that is spread beneath.

  Why dost thou not fly among the corn fields?

  They cannot spread nets where a harvest yields.

  Thou hast a lap full of seed,

  And this is a fine country.

  Why dost thou not cast thy seed

  And live in it merrily?

  Shall I cast it on the sand

  And turn it into fruitful land?

  For on no other ground

  Can I sow my seed

  Without tearing up

  Some stinking weed.

  TO NOBODADDY

  Why art thou silent & invisible,

  Father of Jealousy?

  Why dost thou hide thy self in clouds

  From every searching Eye?

  Why darkness & obscurity

  In all thy words & laws,

  That none dare eat the fruit but from

  The wily serpent’s jaws? ,

  Or is it because Secresy gains females’ loud applause?

  Are not the joys of morning sweeter

  Than the joys of night?

  And are the vig’rous joys of youth

  Ashamed of the light?

  Let age & sickness silent rob

  The vineyards in the night;

  But those who burn with vig’rous youth

  Pluck fruits before the light.

  Love to faults is always blind,

  Always is to joy inclin‘d,

  Lawless, wing’d, & unconfin’d,

  And breaks all chains from every mind.

  Deceit to secresy confin’d,

  Lawful, cautious, & refin’d;

  To every thing but interest blind,

  And forges fetters for the mind.

  THE WILD FLOWER’S SONG

  As I wander’d the forest,

  The green leaves among,

  I heard a wild flower

  Singing a song:

  “I slept in the dark

  In the silent night,

  I murmur’d my fears

  And I felt delight.

  “In the morning I went

  As rosy as morn

  To seek for new Joy,

  But I met with scorn.”

  SOFT SNOW

  I walked abroad in a snowy day:

  I ask’d the soft snow with me to play:

  She play’d & she melted in all her prime,

  And the winter call’d it a dreadful crime.

  AN ANCIENT PROVERB

  Remove away that black’ning church:

  Remove away that marriage hearse:

  Remove away that place of blood:

  You’ll quite remove the ancient curse.

  TO MY MIRTLE

  To a lovely mirtle bound,

  Blossoms show’ring all around,

  0, how sick & weary I

  Underneath my mirtle lie.

  Why should I be bound to thee,

  0, my lovely mirtle tree?

  MERLIN’S PROPHECY

  The harvest shall flourish in wintry weather

  When two virginities
meet together:

  The King & the Priest must be tied in a tether

  Before two virgins can meet together.

  DAY

  The Sun arises in the East,

  Cloth’d in robes of blood & gold;

  Swords & spears & wrath increast

  All around his bosom roll’d,

  Crown’d with warlike fires & raging desires.

  THE MARRIAGE RING

  “Come hither my sparrows,

  My little arrows.

  If a tear or a smile

  Will a man beguile,

  If an amorous delay

  Clouds a sunshiny day,

  If the step of a foot

  Smites the heart to its root,