Tribute To William Blake - Poem by Stephen Loomes
The engraver from Broad Street
Would not kiss the feet
Of a creeping Jesus
When that spirit came
But dreamt of tigers in the night
Out of the narrow lane
Job himself came marching down
The sound of his feet
Resounding at a later time
From the visionary's metered walk.
Ah! but who could have seen
That his meaning would not dawn
Until his spirit free was born
At the engraver's solitary death
At every morn and every night
Misery turns to sweet delight.
Comments about Tribute To William Blake by Stephen Loomes
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.