William Blake

(28 November 1757 – 12 August 1827 / London)

Comments about William Blake

  • Gold Star - 8,103 Points Charity Nduhiu (9/4/2015 1:08:00 AM)

    William you are a great poem. Keep up the good work

    7 person liked.
    8 person did not like.
  • Veteran Poet - 1,236 Points Paola Degli Esposti (5/17/2015 5:41:00 AM)

    there is the sense of infinity

  • Veteran Poet - 1,896 Points p.a. noushad (3/23/2015 2:28:00 AM)

    dear, mystic touch of your verses touch my heart.

  • Rookie Precious Jones (7/11/2014 3:34:00 PM)

    Greetings To You
    My name is precious I gone through your profile and
    it is quite interesting to me,

  • Rookie Liad Hani (6/14/2014 10:49:00 AM)

    it is great poem by william Blake :) .....

  • Rookie Vicky Love (5/26/2014 5:23:00 AM)

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  • Rookie S B (5/5/2014 5:42:00 PM)

    A Little Boy Lost! love this poem

  • Rookie William Goldman (3/17/2014 9:48:00 AM)

    I hate to lay myself open to the charge of pedantry; nonetheless in the poem London, line 3 should read And mark... rather than A mark... - which, when you think about it, makes no sense, does it?

  • Rookie A S (1/16/2014 11:59:00 AM)

    I really admire the combination of both visual and poetic art that happens in Blake's original publications of his poems. I am always surprised at how people tend to overlook them. There are great copies of the illustrations at http: //www.blakearchive.org/blake/

  • Rookie Shyam Kishore Mukherjee (11/26/2013 5:30:00 AM)

    As a poet I admire and like all the creations of William Blake. Going through the poetry of him transform me to another world. I like to read other works of him.

Best Poem of William Blake

A Poison Tree

I was angry with my friend:
I told my wrath, my wrath did end.
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,

And into my garden stole
When the night had veiled the pole;
In the morning glad I see
My foe outstretched beneath the tree.

Read the full of A Poison Tree


Samson, the strongest of the children of men, I sing; how he was foiled by woman's arts, by a false wife brought to the gates of death! O Truth! that shinest with propitious beams, turning our earthly night to heavenly day, from presence of the Almighty Father, thou visitest our darkling world with blessed feet, bringing good news of Sin and Death

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