William Blake

(28 November 1757 – 12 August 1827 / London)

William Blake Poems

41. Jerusalem: I See The Four-Fold Man, The Humanity In Deadly Sleep 5/9/2001
42. Laughing Song 5/9/2001
43. London 5/9/2001
44. Love And Harmony 1/3/2003
45. Love's Secret 5/9/2001
46. Mad Song 5/9/2001
47. Milton: And Did Those Feet In Ancient Time 5/9/2001
48. Milton: But In The Wine-Presses The Human Grapes Sing Not Nor Dance 5/9/2001
49. Mock On, Mock On, Voltaire, Rousseau 1/3/2003
50. My Pretty Rose Tree 5/9/2001
51. My Spectre Around Me Night And Day 1/3/2003
52. Never Seek To Tell Thy Love 5/9/2001
53. Night 5/9/2001
54. Now Art Has Lost Its Mental Charms 1/3/2003
55. Nurse's Song (Innocence) 1/13/2003
56. On Another's Sorrow 5/9/2001
57. Preludium To Europe 5/9/2001
58. Proverbs Of Hell (Excerpt From The Marriage Of Heaven And H 1/1/2004
59. Reeds Of Innocence 1/3/2003
60. Samson 1/3/2003
61. Several Questions Answered 1/13/2003
62. Silent, Silent Night 5/9/2001
63. Sleep! Sleep! Beauty Bright 5/9/2001
64. Song 5/9/2001
65. Song: Memory, Hither Come 1/1/2004
66. Songs Of Experience: Introduction 1/13/2003
67. Songs Of Innocence: Introduction 1/13/2003
68. Spring 5/9/2001
69. The Angel 12/31/2002
70. The Angel That Presided O'Er My Birth 1/3/2003
71. The Birds 1/3/2003
72. The Blossom 12/31/2002
73. The Book Of Thel 5/9/2001
74. The Book Of Urizen (Excerpts) 5/9/2001
75. The Book Of Urizen: Chapter I 1/3/2003
76. The Book Of Urizen: Chapter Ii 1/3/2003
77. The Book Of Urizen: Chapter Iii 1/3/2003
78. The Book Of Urizen: Chapter Iv 1/3/2003
79. The Book Of Urizen: Chapter Ix 1/3/2003
80. The Book Of Urizen: Chapter V 1/3/2003
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

Why Was Cupid A Boy

Why was Cupid a boy,
And why a boy was he?
He should have been a girl,
For aught that I can see.

For he shoots with his bow,
And the girl shoots with her eye,
And they both are merry and glad,
And laugh when we do cry.

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